


Prepare For The Dawn

by aban_ataashi, Bazylia_de_Grean, LunaRowena, rannadylin, serenbach86 (serenbach)



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, Gen, Leaden Key, Pillars TTRPG, saint's war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_ataashi/pseuds/aban_ataashi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaRowena/pseuds/LunaRowena, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rannadylin/pseuds/rannadylin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenbach/pseuds/serenbach86
Summary: More and more people are fleeing Readceras, bringing wild and worrying rumours with them. They speak of their Divine King - and the tales are both fantastic and terrifying. Some say he is really the god of dawn in the flesh, walking the soil of Eora. Some say it is just a rebellious farmer with delusions of grandeur and a few parlour tricks up his sleeve. But there is one thing all sources agree on: whoever or whatever he is, for some reason his plans reach beyond the Readceras borders, and his eyes are set on Dyrwood.In face of this threat, the Dyrwood has assembled a team of holy spies to investigate and, if the rumours are true, seek help against the possible invasion.(A log of a Pillars of Eternity TTRPG, set during the Saint's War as four priestesses seek out the truth of the connection between Waidwen and Eothas.)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: TTRPG Godsquad





	1. Let The Fire Guide You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a log of a campaign GM'd by Bazylia_de_Grean, using the POE TTRPG manual.
> 
> Players are:  
> LunaRowena- Yarrow, human priestess of Magran  
> RannaDylin- Idalia (aka Dal), orlan/dawn godlike priestess of Eothas  
> Aban_Ataashi- Nona, elven priestess of Woedica  
> Serenbach- Ona, dwarven priestess of Wael
> 
> All narration and NPC's are from the GM, and character actions/dialogue are noted by the character's name. Rolls and skill checks are shown in italics.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Magranite priestess begins her journey amid visions of fire and war.

You are standing in a temple, facing a tall statue of Magran. Clouds of steam and smoke and fire, churning. In the dim, eerie light, the sculpture seems alive, moving. Flames dance on the goddess’ face and chainmail, which seems to be flowing like lava. Everything seems familiar... but it is not Ashfall.

Suddenly a pillar of fire bursts from the ground and envelops the statue. “Your trial,” speaks a strong, female voice. Flames part like a curtain when the goddess leans over you, her hand raised, close to her lips, a single spark dancing at her fingertip. “Do you accept?”

**Yarrow** **:** I stand with my chin held high. "I accept."

Magran watches you for a while. Then, she nods, and blows on the spark. The last thing you see is its light filling the whole world.

You wake with a gasp, your body damp with sweat. It is not the first time you have dreamt this. Nor are you the only priest who has been hearing Magran’s voice lately. The high priestess, Sceyda, has been having strange dreams ever since the first rumors about Waidwen and Eothas reached the Dyrwoodan borders. Durance, once your fellow acolyte and now a priest like you, has been having dreams, too, but he prefers not to speak about them, and knowing his peculiar sense of humor and decency, no one has dared to ask yet.

**Yarrow** **:** You know what, screw it, I'll go talk to Durance because someone needs to.

**Yarrow** **:** And I'm blunt.

You barely get out of bed when there is a knock on the door.

**Yarrow** **:** Grumpy and groggy, I throw on a robe and open the door.

It is Durance. But unlike you, he seems alert.

**Yarrow** **:** "Saves me the trouble of looking for you today. What'd'ya want from me?"

For a moment, he just stands there quietly, trying to read your face in the dark. Finally, he speaks. “This is not a place for talking.” He motions at you to follow him.

**Yarrow** **:** "I'm getting dressed first." I close the door in his face while I get dressed, possibly lingering a bit longer than I need to, before opening the door again and nodding to him. I follow wherever he leads.

Quietly, trying not to wake anyone else, you sneak along the corridors and go outside- and stop at the threshold, momentarily forgetting everything but the view before your eyes. Ashfall at night is so breathtaking it might not be possible to ever get used to this. The charred trees, dark like basalt columns, still glow; embers burning constantly for the glory of Magran. Sparks gleam around like fireflies among ashes, falling softly like snow. The trees burn, but never burn down; Magran’s miracle. A testament of her power. The stars above look very dull and dim in comparison. The steady hiss and cracking of burning wood is interrupted by muffled clinking of metal against metal. Ashfall never really sleeps, the smiths forging new ways to let the faithful prepare themselves for Magran’s many trials.

After a while, you resume walking. The braziers at the entrance to the cathedral are two bright suns in the night, and unconsciously you turn towards them.

“You had that dream again, didn’t you?” Durance asks finally, in a tone suggesting he does not really need a confirmation.

**Yarrow** **:** "With Magran? Yeah." I continue looking at the braziers rather than him. "Did you?"

"Yes. With Magran. Myself." He pauses. "You." Another pause. "Magran breathed fire onto us and we burned."

“You think it’s another trial?”

**Yarrow** **:** "Another? This might be THE trial. If she speaks to us, many of us, in this way, something is coming."

**Yarrow** **:** "We're being called to do _something_."

**Yarrow** **:** "It would be nice if she was a little clearer on what. I'm all for making things explode, but it's nice to explode in a certain direction."

He laughs so hard it ends up in a fit of coughing. "Hah, well said. Even if I'd rather watch things burn. A proper trial shouldn't be over too soon."

**Yarrow** **:** "It wouldn't be a trial otherwise, right?" I grin.

"No, it wouldn't." This time, he sounds serious. Grim, almost. "Makes me wonder what trials Magran has prepared for us."

“Guess it must be something about that heretic in Readceras.” Durance sounds as if he was about to spit on the ground, but remembers that he is in a holy place and decides against it. “Must be,” he mumbles, thoughtfully.

**Yarrow** **:** "If he's completely a heretic and liar, would Magran send us against him?"

**Yarrow** **:** "Although I don't know if Magran's moved against Eothas in the past. But that... to move against an incarnation of a god..."

Durance shrugs. "There is only one light that shines both at day and at night. And it's not the sun."

**Yarrow** **:** "Do we know what's progressing in Readceras? Is the Dyrwood in danger? Is Eora?" I ask partially to Durance, partially to the shrine of Magran. I don't necessarily expect Durance to know better than me.

"Nothing but rumors so far. You know how kith are; so much senseless chatter. But I've heard they’re gathering the troops in Defiance Bay. And the temple’s calling in all blacksmiths and weaponmasters. One group already left for the Halgot Citadel.”

"Seems serious, whatever it is. D'you think Magran wants us to protect her country?"

**Yarrow** **:** "I don't think she'd want us to let those Readceran bastards walk all over us."

Durance grins in a way that makes you glad you cannot see his expression clearly in the dim light. "Oh, we won't."

"I'd say 'over my dead body', but I'd much prefer it to be Waidwen's."

**Yarrow** **:** I laugh.

**Yarrow** **:** "Isn't a requirement for Magran's clergy to be too obstinate to die?"

"I don't think the heretic's gonna care. And neither will Berath."

**Yarrow** **:** And then I sigh. "But what can we do about it? That decision isn't up to us. Now I'm all ready to go in guns blazing if Sceyda says so, but I can't just decide to go traipsing off to the border."

“My guess is she'll be sending us out of here soon enough. To Halgot Citadel. Or maybe to Defiance Bay. She might send the blacksmiths and the mobile forges with us, too, as soon as we gather more people. Can’t leave the cathedral unguarded when we live so close to the wildlings of Eir Glanfath.”

“Yes, something big is coming.” He chuckles darkly. “Fire on the horizon, whatever happens. Wonder if we'll have to walk into it.” He looks at you, lifting an eyebrow. “Or if any of us will walk out."

**Yarrow:** "As long as we take Waidwen down with us."

"We will," he replies with maybe too much confidence.

**Yarrow:** "Now, see, everyone just needs conviction like that."

He shrugs. "Well, they should have it."

"Take heart in thine own strength," he quotes one of the prayers.

**Yarrow** **:** "'For thine own strength comes from Magran herself.'"

**Yarrow** **:** "Between Magran and Eothas, I know who I'd bet on in a fight. And I'm not just saying that because I devoted my life to Magran."

"And who would you bet on between Dyrwoodans and Readcerans?" 

**Yarrow** **:** "It's taken the possible intervention of a god for Readceras to throw off the shackles of Aedyr. The Dyrwood has stood proudly independent for some time."

**Yarrow** **:** "We also, having a large collection of Magranites, have the potential for a lot more 'boom.'"

"Magran's flames warmed us then, when we spat into the face of Aedyrans and their Exiled Queen. They will do so again. Let the fire guide you," he quotes again.

"How often we don't remember how this prayer ends." He laughs, but it sounds hollow. "Let the fire consume you."

**Yarrow:** I feel a sense of foreboding, but I try to hide it from Durance.

_[Durance Insight: 15]_

_[Yarrow Bluff: 9]_

He glances at you, but does not comment on your sudden silence.

**Yarrow:** "But who are we but two priests pontificating on the will of our god in the middle of the night?"

**Yarrow:** "You could have at least brought beer."

He laughs. "Isn't that the definition of a priest's job?"

"And I could. But not here when the cathedral guards may see us. I have some stashed in my room."

"So if some beer's what you want, sneak into the back garden and wait there."

**Yarrow:** I laugh. "It's like being an initiate again."

"Like an initiate..." He grins. "Is that an invitation?"

**Yarrow:** I glare at him. "We were having a moment. You ruined it."

"You mean you only snuck out for beer and never brought whiskey?" He shakes his head.

**Yarrow:** "Beer was cheaper. There was one time Anna brought some moonshine her brother brewed. Nastiest thing I've ever drunk."

"Who knows, we might find some more fiery drinks when we leave Ashfall."

**Yarrow** **:** "I've heard there's some places in the Republics where they literally light your drink on fire."

He laughs. "You never used fire spells to do that? We might try that. I don't think Magran would mind... much. If we offer her a drink or two."

**Yarrow** **:** I raise an imaginary toast, "To Magran."

**Yarrow** **:** But sure, I'll sneak into the back garden and drink beer with Durance.

While Durance goes back into the dormitories, you sneak through and go to the back garden. It is like a miniature of Ashfall itself; charred, still burning trees, fireflies of sparks. Dry leaves and grass and a weird kind of moss that look like soot during the day but like glowing embers at night. There are wildflowers climbing up the ruined wall of the first cathedral - Dyrwoodan farmers would call them weed, but not much else wants to grow in this scorched earth.

**Yarrow** **:** I sit and appreciate the wildflowers

You wait for a while. And then a little longer. When you start thinking that was just a silly prank, really worthy of an initiate, Durance appears, carrying two bottles and a cup.

He lifts one bottle. "Beer." He lifts another, grinning. "And whiskey."

**Yarrow** **:** "And one cup?"

"I don't have more." He hands you the cup. "And I can drink from the bottle."

**Yarrow** **:** "Just pour me some, first."

He fills the cup.

Then he tips the bottle, splashing some of the whiskey onto the ground. "To Magran."

**Yarrow:** I splash some out of the cup. "To Magran."

You drink in silence for a while.

"Just to be clear," he mumbles finally. "That silly invitation thing was a joke. About you inviting me here for whiskey. Not whatever..."

He takes a gulp of alcohol. "You know what? Just forget it."

**Yarrow:** "I accept your apology."

He huffs. "That was an explanation, Cwicfyr."

**Yarrow:** "Then I choose to no longer be offended at your explanation."

"Appreciated," he mutters so quietly you can barely hear him.

**Yarrow:** "You don't have a lot of friends, do you?"

"Not a lot, no. But it's the quality that counts, isn't it?"

**Yarrow:** "Not wrong about that."

"You're good quality." He takes another gulp. "Better than this," he adds, raising the bottle.

**Yarrow** **:** "I didn't think it was that bad."

**Yarrow** **:** "But thanks. Thanks for sharing. And not just the alcohol."

He lifts the bottle towards you in a silent toast.

**Yarrow** **:** I toast back.

He drinks. Then he leans against the ruined wall, closing his eyes.

**Yarrow** **:** "Copper for your thoughts?"

He lets out a bark of laughter. "Didn't think anyone would pay that much."

"You know why I was so confident earlier? Not only because I believe in Magran."

"You can't pass some trials without sacrifice. And to gain a god's favor, you must make an offering."

"I have a feeling I won't be returning here, you know."

**Yarrow** **:** "I... I felt it, too."

He opens his eyes and looks at you. "You will, Cwicfyr. Have faith."

**Yarrow:** "That's all we can have."

**Yarrow:** "But," I stand up and hand him back my empty glass. "We should probably get back to bed - our respective beds - if we want to not be in complete pain tomorrow morning."

"Probably." He gets up and hands you the bottle of beer, still unopened. "Here, something for the road."

**Yarrow:** I take it. "Thank you kindly."

**Yarrow:** "You're not such a bad sort yourself, Durance."

"Just don't go around telling that to people." He huffs. "You'd ruin my reputation."

**Yarrow** **:** "I'll take it to my grave."

"Many years from now," he says, somewhat more kindly.

He nods. "Good luck, Cwicfyr."

**Yarrow** **:** "You, too, Durance."

He grins. "And in case faith fails us, I'm gonna bring some whiskey, so you'll know where to look should you need some."

He nods at you again, turns around and leaves.

**Yarrow** **:** I head back to my room with my new bottle of beer, stash it, and go back to bed.

* * *

The next day begins just as any other. Ashfall is bustling with life, as usual. But today, when you might have to leave it soon, you pay attention to every detail, as you did back when you first arrived here. The charred trunks of old trees, memorials of war – and victory. The clouds of smoke from the smithies, and fire glimmering through the cracks in the ground. You can hear the clang of hammers against metal, and an occasional rumble from where the priests are testing a new batch of gunpowder. More of a feeling than a place, if you were to describe Ashfall to someone.

“Yarrow!” A familiar female voice calls your name.

**Yarrow** **:** I turn to the speaker.

You turn and see a willowy, red-haired elven girl, a bit younger than you. She hurries towards you, grinning. You recognize Fenna, the acolyte you shared a cell with at the temple where you started your training as a priest. Over the years, you have become good friends. But after you have been ordained a priestess, you have not met very often, even after she too was transferred to Ashfall. While your duties changed, she is still an acolyte. And still an adolescent.

“Sceyda... I mean, the high priestess is calling you,” Fenna says. “And Durance.” She frowns. “You haven’t been misbehaving, have you?” she asks, but her attempt at humor is forced.

**Yarrow:** "Not where anyone can see. Thanks, Fenna. I'll head over."

“This must be important. I don’t like it.” Her eyes widen in fear. “What if it’s about those rumors from Readceras? What if Sceyda sends you away?” Fenna shakes her head. “Sorry, it’s just... They don’t tell much to us acolytes. And you’re always so busy we don’t really have time to talk. And I worry.”

**Yarrow** **:** "We can get lunch together today if you're that worried."

**Yarrow** **:** I don't tell her that I expect that I may be sent away.

"That would be great!" Fenna musters a smile. “Well, good luck with Sceyda, whatever it is.” She hugs you briefly and a bit awkwardly.

“Now come on! We can’t keep the high priestess waiting, can we?”

**Yarrow** **:** I hug her back, also somewhat awkwardly, then follow.

Together, you walk towards the cathedral. From the outside, the temple does not look very imposing – a low building, only a bit grander than any town church across Dyrwood, a burning brazier on each side of the door. But inside, it is extraordinary, like no other place of worship perhaps on all of Eora. Stone walls and pillars high as trees and shaped as such – a miracle of engineering and magic, carved in the very rock that is the foundation of this land.

At the door, Fenna stops. “May Magran’s fire light your way,” she says, suddenly weirdly official.

**Yarrow** **:** "And yours."

**Yarrow** **:** I walk through the door.

You enter the cathedral. There are torches and fires blazing along the nave. The shadows are dancing, making the cathedral look like a mirror image of the burnt forest outside. The altar seems very small next to the statue of Magran. The sculpture is made of stone, too, but the goddess’ hair and robes are gilded and her armor is inlaid with copper, the metal shaped in swirls and curls. In the dim light, the statue seems to be moving. Alive, like flame itself.

The high priestess is standing next to the altar, throwing a handful of coals and incense into the holy fires always burning before Magran. When she hears your footsteps, she turns. Other Magranite officials, like Fyrga in the temple in Defiance Bay, use fancy titles. Sceyda does not need any. At first glance, she does not look imposing – an aging woman in simple robes and ash-stained leather armor, her weathered face wrinkled like a walnut, a contrast to her hair, white like metal in a forge. But there are still flames in her eyes, and anyone who knows her also knows that in her anger she can be as fickle as fire, and that her spirit is forged of Durgan steel.

Beside her stands Durance, fidgeting impatiently. But he keeps any complaints to himself.

Sceyda nods at you. “Hard to imagine anything could ever endanger this place, isn’t it?” she asks instead of a greeting. She always says she is too old to have time for politeness.

**Yarrow** **:** I greet Sceyda in the fashion it is appropriate to greet her.

**Yarrow** **:** "This is about the dreams?"

At the mention of dreams, Durance glances at you behind Sceyda's back.

"Blunt, as always." Sceyda smiles briefly, but her face quickly turns grim. “Yes. I called you both here because the goddess has been warning us for days. And...” she breaks off, thoughtful. “I’ve been meditating on those dreams. Magran has prepared trials for all of us. Perhaps we will even meet at the end to face the last one together.”

Durance takes a step forward and opens his mouth, but Sceyda lifts her hand and he does not speak.

“We’ll have to fight for Dyrwood, that much is clear. And we will. We did not take this land from Aedyr and protect it from the Glanfathans only to have it fall into the hands of a _Readceran_ ,” she almost spits the last word out. “We have fire, in guns and spells alike. But that might not be enough against a god.”

**Yarrow** **:** "We have Magran on our side."

"We do. But Magran only helps those who help themselves."

**Yarrow** **:** "So we help ourselves."

“We need to prepare.” She looks at Durance. “And you will help me with that.” Then she turns to you. “Your task will be to find out what we need to prepare for. A man with delusions of grandeur, that we can deal with. But to fight a god, we need help.”

**Yarrow** **:** "Where are you sending me? Specifically?"

"For now, to Defiance Bay. That is not your final destination. But I don't know what is. You might not have enough time to find out who that Waidwen really is, Yarrow." The fact that she uses your name instead of just saying 'girl' like she usually does speaks volumes. "But I believe the goddess would not give us warnings against a mere mortal. So maybe the more important task for you would be to find out not what, but _how_."

**Yarrow** **:** "Understood, ma'am."

“I don't know much that could help you. But there is...” She hesitates for a while. “An old legend, among the tribes of Eir Glanfath.”

_[Yarrow Theology: 20]_

You are not familiar with Glanfathan myths. There is an obscure story, considered holy words by some and heresy by others; something about Magran creating some parts of Eora or even it whole, or perhaps life on it, but that is everything you can recall.

**Yarrow** **:** "I've heard that there _is_ a legend, but not much more than that."

"That's more than most." Sceyda shrugs. "And Glanfathan legends aren't very popular in Dyrwood, for some reason."

"This particular tale says that when Magran breathed life into Eora, a spark of her exhale fell onto earth and that it burns to this day.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “It is but a legend, of course. But there might be... a spark of truth in it.”

“For centuries, there have been rumors about a powerful artifact of Magran. Some say it turns the user into an avatar of the goddess. Some say it lets you commune with her.” Sceyda shrugs again. “Whatever it does, we must find it.” She looks at you, and then at your companion. “You have seen it, haven’t you? In dreams,” she explains.

**Yarrow** **:** "That's what you think it is? And you think we could use this to fight Waidwen?"

"I think it's our best chance. Magran is not Wael; she doesn't dabble in dreams just for the fun of it."

**Yarrow** **:** I snort.

Durance nods, quiet and just as thoughtful as last night. Divine or not, it looks like Waidwen has already managed to perform at least one miracle.

**Yarrow** **:** "When do I leave?"

Sceyda gives you a pointed look. "Magran appreciates devotion, girl. Not impatience."

"We still have to determine whether you leave at all."

**Yarrow** **:** I nod.

Sceyda turns towards the altar and takes one of the small lamps illuminating it. The hot metal, filled with blazing coals, should be burning her hand, but she seems unaffected.

She turns back towards you and Durance. “Are you ready to walk through fire?” she asks, looking at you both expectantly.

"There is no other way." Without hesitation, Durance puts his hand into the flames.

**Yarrow** **:** I follow suit.

The fire seems hotter than any forge, and it feels as if your skin and bones were melting... It is no longer pain; it is agony. There are drops of sweat dripping down Durance's temples, but he clenches his teeth and stays silent.

**Yarrow** **:** I try to keep myself steady.

"Let the fire guide you," Sceyda intones.

"Let the fire transform you."

"Let the fire purify you."

"Let the fire consume you."

Suddenly the fire licking at your hands turns pleasantly cool, like a stream in summer. It seems the trial is over. You and Durance both sigh with relief... then freeze, alarmed, when something wraps around your hands.

Sceyda watches you intently, but says nothing.

**Yarrow** **:** If Sceyda isn't reacting, then I try to stay calm.

Sceyda nods, satisfied, and you withdraw your hands.

You look at your hand – it is unscathed. There is a thin chain wrapped around your fingers, a single red stone pendant dangling from it. Durance is holding a similar amulet.

“Your reward,” Sceyda says, putting the vessel back onto the altar.

[ _Item Obtained: Magran’s Breath- An amulet with a red stone pendant on a silver chain. Grants 100% Immunity to fire damage. Grants_ **_What Does the Flame Reveal:_ ** _the spell allows the user to see in the dark. Requires 1 day recharge for every 15 minutes of use (the amulet is active while recharging)]_

“You have an hour to pack. We’re leaving for Defiance Bay with the next shipment." Sceyda announces. "Let's hope we can pass through the firestorm brewing on the horizon just as easily. People of Dyrwood put a great deal of faith in our goddess. We cannot fail them,” she adds, not specifying whether she means the Dyrwoodans, Magran, or both.

**Yarrow** **:** I nod and, if I have been dismissed, leave to pack and tell Fenna I can't make lunch.

* * *

A few days later, you arrive at Defiance Bay. The city is bustling, not unlike Ashfall in some aspects – somewhat noisy, but what else could it be with so many kith around? But it also seems more complicated while not being more complex. You find your way to the Ducal Palace and the temple of Magran without much trouble, and are greeted by the Tranquil Ardent herself. Fyrga still remembers you and Durance from your last, brief visit here. And just like the last time, she is not too pleased to see Sceyda. “Welcome,” Fyrga says curtly. “Just in time, too.” 

“Durance, take Yarrow to the Hadret House,” Sceyda orders. “Then come back here.” She turns to you. “I’ll join you later. First I must see to our shipment. Commander Rulth’s messenger is waiting.”

Durance nods and leads you out of the temple into the busy city streets.

In a few minutes, you reach Brackenbury. It is a very elegant district... almost too elegant. Something here does not seem right. “There can be no fire without a bit of smoke or dripping wax,” Durance comments, looking around. “The only pristine candles are those you do not use.”

**Yarrow** **:** "What is this place we're going to?"

"This," he points at a house a few feet away, in front of you. It is a bit smaller than most buildings in the district, overgrown with ivy. Still elegant, but looks somewhat... more used.

"Dunryd Row headquarters. Ciphers." He spits onto the cobblestones. "Haven't heard any rumors of Wael doing what people say Eothas did. But if that was the case, that Webb woman would be the result."

He shrugs. "At least Sceyda seems to think so."

**Yarrow** **:** "And you have no opinion on the subject I can tell."

"None I'd be eager to voice where her damn ciphers can hear."

**Yarrow** **:** "Fair enough."

"Well, anyway, here we are." He points at the house again. "A few steps forward, then through the door. I trust you won't get lost."

**Yarrow** **:** Not entirely sure what I'm doing here, I nod to Durance then go through into Hadret House.

"Good luck, Cwicfyr.” He nods at you and turns away.

As you approach, the door opens before you can knock, revealing an orlan in simple but excellently-tailored clothes and with a neatly trimmed beard.

**Yarrow** **:** "I'm here from Ashfall. High Priestess Sceyda sent me."

“Welcome," he speaks in a clear Defiance Bay accent. “We have been expecting you. But I’m afraid you will have to wait for a while. Lady Webb is still busy.”

The orlan opens the door wider and makes an inviting gesture with his hand. “Please, follow me.”

**Yarrow** **:** I follow the gentleman.

He leads you through a big room full of paper and kith, and upstairs. “Wait here,” he says, showing you a door on the right, then ushers you inside and is gone before you can say a word. You are left alone in a middle-sized room. There is a table with a few chairs, some bookcases, and many notes pinned on the walls. All you can do now is wait.


	2. Thine Heart, Bright As Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Eothasian priestess leaves home for the first time on an unexpected assignment- and isn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Gilded Vale is buzzing with rumors, but the temple is quiet, as usual. Most of the priests are working, or meditating in the solitude of their cells. Everything looks just like any other day, exactly as it always has for as long as your memory can reach. It is very easy to believe the world outside is peaceful as well.

You are walking the empty hall with a basket full of candles, tasked with preparing the chapel for the evening prayers. The morning devotions ended a while ago, so the chamber should be empty save for you and the statue of Eothas. But when you approach the door, you hear voices.

“I asked for one healer, rectrix.” It is Raedric, the only son and heir of the lord ruling these lands. “ _One_. Are you expecting me to believe you cannot spare a single priest?”

When the rectrix answers, her voice sounds calm. But you have known Hekla for years and can notice the slightest change to her tone, like the first thin thread of smoke just before you see the fire. “Forgive us, my lord. But we cannot stand against our god.”

“You don’t know if he’s your god yet. He might be just a mortal.”

“As you said, my lord, we don’t know. And we cannot take that risk.”

“But you can let your neighbours and friends go into battle without a healer?” Raedric asks coldly.

“You ask me to make an impossible choice. To make it for me and for my own.”

“My own...” Raedric repeats. “So it’s _yours_ and _mine_ , now? What about Dyrwood, rectrix?” There is clearly audible anger in his voice. “My father remembers when you were still a little girl, running around the fields. For gods’ sake, you grew up here, Hekla, same as I did!”

“And I have been serving the local community for most of my life. I chose that.” The rectrix’s voice rises a little. “But I owe it nothing.” She sighs. When she continues, her voice is quieter and calm once more. “How can you expect me to choose between my home and my faith? How can you expect any of us to do so?” She sounds tired.

“Because I’m asking you to heal, not to fight," Raedric replies hotly. "Is there really no one here ready to follow their vocation?”

**Idalia** **:** Dal's just hovering outside, probably slowly backing away when it occurs to her she's eavesdropping...

Both voices are rising slowly, so even backing away, you can still hear them.

“If there were, they would have already volunteered." 

“Unless you have forbidden them to do so.” Raedric’s voice darkens.

You catch a quiet creak of the door when a third person enters the chapel. Hekla and Raedric stop quarreling for a moment, surprised. “My lord.” It is the voice of Invar, the priest from Aedyr. You do not know him very well, because he has only been here for a few months, but he has always been friendly and respectful in his dealings with you. “I will go.”

**Idalia** **:** Curiosity gets the better of her at last; I'll creep closer and peek in the door.

The chapel is well lit, as always; you can see Hekla's familiar silhouette, Invar's fair hair, and Raedric's clouded face.

Raedric’s brow furrows. “You’re not from here, are you, priest?”

“I travelled here from Aedyr, yes," Invar confirms. "But I was born in Dyrwood.”

It takes Raedric a while to answer. “I accept your offer. We’re leaving at dawn.”

Invar nods. Raedric turns and walks out of the temple, without saying goodbye to the rectrix.

Hekla waits until Raedric is gone before she speaks again. “You will not undermine my authority again,” she hisses to Invar. "Not in public."

The priest shakes his head. “You have no authority over me, rectrix. Only my god has.”

For a moment, his head turns a little, as if he was about to look at the door, but he doesn't. Hekla notices the movement and glances at the door over her shoulder.

"You might as well join the discussion," she calls to you.

**Idalia** **:** Eyes wide, "Sorry! I didn't know anyone was using the chapel, I just..." * _holding up the basket.*_

"Just as well." Hekla shrugs. "Put the candles away, child. I have a more important task for you." She turns to Invar for a moment. "Go tell Raedric you'll be taking her to Defiance Bay, and join his troops later."

Invar nods to you both and turns away. Before he leaves the temple, you hear a faint echo in your head, as if his voice: _We must speak_.

When the door closes behind him, the rectrix motions at you to come closer. “How much have you heard?” she asks sternly.

**Idalia** **:** "Um. Something about...a battle? Is Raedric going to war?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard about Waidwen... Half of the country has not been speaking about anything else for weeks."

**Idalia** **:** "Just...wild stories, surely?"

"Some, probably. Others..." Hekla sighs. "I don't know. And we must find out. There are whispers - more than rumours, if Raedric is gathering people - that Waidwen is calling up an army. What for if not to reach out and try to take Dyrwood?”

"I refused to take a stance today, but we can't keep it up forever. We _must_ know.”

"We must know if this Waidwen is just a mortal, or if it is as people say and Eothas inhabits him indeed. If he is a mortal...” Hekla rubs her forehead, briefly closing her eyes. “It would be better and safer for us if he was. We could send healers. We could do what’s expected of us.

“But if he is a god incarnate... If he is Eothas... To stand against him would be a terrible sin. I won’t let my priests risk their souls and future lives." The rectrix shakes her head. "How can you choose between two right causes?

"But enough musings. We'll get back to that when you come back with answers."

**Idalia** **:** "Answers? From Defiance Bay, you said?"

"From Readceras, child. Defiance Bay will be just the start of your journey.”

“Raedric’s summons weren’t the only ones we received,” Hekla adds. “Apparently the duc of Dyrwood wants to know the truth about Waidwen as well.” She lifts an eyebrow. “And they have asked specifically for you.”

**Idalia** **:** "Me?" A few candles spill from the basket, shaken in my surprise. "But I don't know anything about Waidwen; I've barely even left the temple before, let alone... _start_ in Defiance Bay? I didn't even know the duc had even heard of _me_!" _*There go a couple more candles...*_ "Or...oh! Is Waidwen....also..." I light up the ear-fluff (or whatever it is Dal can light up) and gesture at the light.

"A godlike?" Hekla shrugs. "One of the possibilities. It would explain the rumours that his head is glowing, at least. But being a godlike alone would not grant him as much influence. It's either magic tricks or..." She breaks off, as if scared of repeating that he might indeed be your god incarnate.

"I'm not sure the duc had heard of you. That cipher woman who advises him, however..." The rectrix frowns in distaste. "Nothing escapes her attention, for better or worse."

"But I'd call this choice prudent. If Waidwen is really planning a campaign against Dyrwood, it's going to be difficult for us, no matter what he really is." She looks at you meaningfully. "It's going to be even more difficult for you, because of who you are. But for the same reason, you are uniquely suited for this task. You have been blessed by the light of Dawnstars, and therefore might be welcome where others would be turned away.”

"If Waidwen is just a mortal and a follower of Eothas, he won't turn you away. If he _is_ Eothas... he won't turn you away either.”

"Go to Defiance Bay, child, listen to what they have to say, and join their expedition. Find out what the truth is. You _must_ find out. The fate of this temple is in your hands. Perhaps even the fate of all the faithful souls in this country."

**Idalia** **:** I bow my head respectfully. "I'll do my best, then. But...what if it really _is_ him? And if it is, wouldn't he have told us something by now? A warning, if Dyrwood has earned his judgment, or..." With a flick of the ears, "'Course, if we've earned the judgment of the god of _redemption_ , we must've _really_ earned it, y'know?"

"If it _is_ him... Maybe this is a test. Perhaps a final test. Perhaps not just for us, but all of Eora."

Hekla leans in and takes you by the shoulders. “If it _is_ him... Remember, child,” she says sternly, “Whatever happens, you _cannot_ stand against your god, no matter who says you should. Your soul and future lives depend on it.”

**Idalia** **:** I stiffen, then nod slowly. "I suppose I'll just have to make very sure, then."

"Yes. You should." She lets you go and steps away. "Now go, pack your things. Say goodbyes. You can prepare the chapel for the evening prayer, if you have enough time. And get some rest. You set out tomorrow at dawn."

**Idalia** **:** I glance down at the half empty basket and the candles on the floor. "I'll just pick these up, at least..."

Hekla nods and walks out of the chapel, leaving you alone.

**Idalia** **:** Deep breath, then I hurry to pick up the candles and set out the essentials for evening prayer without too much time spent on the frills...

It is still early, and you have plenty of time. On the other hand, this is all very sudden, and you have less than a day to prepare. Your mentor, Siofra, would like to know you will be leaving, and that weird thought you heard spoken in Invar's voice still echoes in your head. What do you want to do?

**Idalia** **:** I'll go see Siofra first.

You finish tending to the chapel and walk across the temple, straight to Siofra's little room, which she rarely leaves nowadays. She has been your mentor, but she also brought you up and has been taking care of you since you were a little child, and she is the closest person to a parent you have ever had. Siofra is very old now, even for an elf, and gets sick very often. For the last few days, she has barely left her bed. But she would be very sad if you left without saying goodbye – even if she would forgive you if you did not.

It only takes you a couple of minutes before you are standing at the door to her room.

**Idalia** **:** I knock quietly.

"Come in!"

**Idalia** **:** I peek in and grin. "Hi! I didn't wake you, I hope?"

"No, Firefly, you didn't." Siofra smiles when she sees you. She is half-sitting, half-lying on the pillows, knitting. The stitches are uneven because she does not see very well, but she likes having her hands busy.

**Idalia** **:** "Good, good. You need your rest, Grandmother." I climb up on the bed next to her and poke at the knitting a little. "This is pretty. Is it a new one? Weren't you working on something blue last time I saw you?"

"Yes, but this will suit you better, I think." She lifts the yarn a little to your face. It is the colour of ripe wheat and goes with your hair very well. "It's gonna keep me busy until you come back."

**Idalia** **:** "Back?" Ears flick. "Wait, how did you know I'm leaving?"

"Hekla told me." She sighs. "But made me promise I wouldn't breathe a word."

She reaches out and takes your hand in hers. "I wish you didn't have to go. But I couldn't say no to the rectrix."

**Idalia** **:** I squeeze her hand. "Only Raedric does that, I guess. And maybe the Aedyran. It's...all right, I suppose. Maybe I can help." Ears flattening, "Siofra? What's Defiance Bay like? What does one even _pack_ for a journey like this? Did Eothas ever talk to you? Hasn't he said _anything_ to _anyone_ in the Dyrwood about..."

She laughs; a quiet, dry sound, much like the rustling of pages of the old prayer books. "That's a lot of questions for one old woman to answer, Firefly."

"I haven't been in Defiance Bay in a long time... It's a big city, the biggest in Dyrwood. Very busy. Very different from our calm little village. But you won't be alone, right? Hekla promised she's going to send someone with you."

**Idalia** **:** "Yes. She's sending Invar. I suppose he knows the way? He said he was _from_ the Dyrwood, Siofra! I wouldn't have guessed..."

"He has been travelling for the last few months, so I guess he knows the way." She smiles. "Well, at least he has some experience in reading maps, I suppose.

"And I think he mentioned he was born in Dyrwood, but his parents left when he was still too little to remember anything." She winks. "So not a real Dyrwoodan anyway."

Then, she sighs and her smile disappears, but she remains calm. "As for Eothas...Well, he brought you to me, so if that wasn't a sign, I don't know what is. And I can't speak about everyone in Dyrwood, but he hasn't said anything to me about... you know.

"But," she continues, thoughtfully, "I believe he speaks to us. It's just... It's like with kith. You say one thing, but can never be sure how others will understand it. So maybe we just don't understand what he's trying to tell us?"

**Idalia** **:** "Hmmmm." I unwind a bit of the yarn from the ball, sort of feeding it to her as she knits, while I think that over. "I'll have to listen very carefully, then."

She smiles at you gently. "Just follow what your soul tells you. What else can you do in the matters of faith?"

**Idalia** **:** "Of course." I bite my lip, hesitating, then pat her shoulder and ask, "Will you be all right, while I'm gone?"

"Don't worry for me, Firefly. I'll be fine."

For a moment, it seems there are tears in her eyes, but she blinks and smiles and the impression is gone. “You’ve grown so much.” She squeezes your palm. Lightly; she does not have much strength left.

**Idalia** **:** "I'm afraid I won't quite catch up to you," I laugh, sitting up to full orlan height. "But I'll make sure some of the acolytes check in on you. Till I'm back. I'll be back soon, I'm sure." A frown and ruffle of fur. "How...far is Readceras, exactly?"

"Quite far. It will probably seem very far to you, compared to this little world you've lived in." She tries to give you a reassuring smile, but it turns out sad. "But I'm afraid distance is going to be the least of your troubles."

She shakes her head. “It’s going to be so difficult for you...” She squeezes your hand again. “Be graceful despite that. Be strong.” She squeezes your hands again. “And most of all, be careful.”

**Idalia** **:** I stare for a moment, fixing her image in my memory, and then lean in and hug her, carefully around her fragile form and the nearby needles. "Of course, Grandmother."

She holds you for a moment, stroking your hair, just as she used to do when you were little and woke up at night because of nightmares or came looking for comfort because some of the other acolytes were mean to you.

Then she reluctantly lets you go.

She takes a ring off her finger; you have seen her wearing it often. “I pray you won’t need it on your journey. But if you do...” She puts the ring onto your palm. “It will let you perform miracles, if you sacrifice enough. Be careful when you use it.”

_[Item Obtained- Sunrise Ring. Grants_ **_Rebirth of the Day:_ ** _+1 healing spell use per levels 1-3, but each additional heal consumes the user’s health (half of restored health points)._ **_Work in the Dark:_ ** _after a kill, all healing consumes the user’s health (half of restored health points)]_

**Idalia** **:** I look it over for a moment, slip it on a finger, and nod solemnly. "I will."

“Now shoo, go and get some rest.” She lifts her hands and lays them on your head. “Go with my blessing, Firefly.”

**Idalia** : "I'm not sure I can sleep a wink tonight. Probably won't even be able to rein in the glow, like when I was little," I laugh. "But I'll try. Thank you, Siofra." I kiss her forehead and then...scurry off to go pack, I guess.

You go back to your room and pack all the things you might need on your journey. Is there something special you want to take with you?

**Idalia** **:** I don't suppose she really has that much in the way of possessions, living in a temple, but now I'm envisioning a montage of glowy orlan laying out everything she owns throughout the room and pondering what should go and packing and unpacking and repacking half a dozen times... She has Siofra's ring for a memento, of course, so she can safely leave behind any other knickknacks and try to pack practically, but she has no idea really what she'll need so that pack's gonna end up overstuffed one way or another.

It takes you awhile, but finally you manage to pack everything you are going to need in your travels... whatever that might be.

Is there anything else you want to do?

**Idalia** **:** Pack things related to the various random skills I picked in character creation, probably. Some sort of Eothasian scripture book, writing materials, a fishing line, and cooking supplies...well she wouldn't keep that in her room, she'll have to go borrow a cookpot from the kitchen or something.

**Idalia** **:** And then she will say her prayers and do her best not to keep herself awake with panicked glowing.

Do you want to talk to Invar before the journey, like he - or maybe it was just your intuition - suggested?

**Idalia** **:** OK, she'll go looking for him.

You find Invar in the garden, walking across it slowly and stopping here and there, as if he was saying goodbye to the flowers. He seems sad, and very tired.

“A miracle, aren’t they?” he asks, pointing at a bunch of pilgrim’s crowns. “So easy to overlook, but so bright.

“They remind me of someone I left in Aedyr. A little ray of sunshine, just like these.” He smiles wistfully. “She always asked me if that’s how the sun smells like.” He picks up a flower and hands it to you. “Here, for luck.”

**Idalia** **:** "They are very pretty." Dal sniffs at it, now curious about the sun's smell herself... "Are they really lucky, too?"

"I guess it depends on whether you believe they are."

For a moment, he stays silent. “The rectrix wants you to find out who Waidwen really is, doesn’t she?” he asks at last. “What do you think of it all?”

**Idalia** **:** "I think..." she frowns, ears lowering. "I think it's a very important thing to find out. I just hope I _can_. If it's really _him_ , will I even be able to tell? None of the rumors sound like anything I know about Eothas, but...gods are gods," she shrugs.

“I don’t believe it’s Eothas. It cannot be.” Invar shakes his head. “But if it is... how can it be a betrayal, to protect your family, your friends? These people just fear for the safety of their home. Who could blame them for it?”

**Idalia** **:** She frowns down at the flower. "Unless they're setting out to march against a threat that's not there. Maybe... _if_ it's even him...his plans are peaceful, but people misunderstood."

"You haven't heard much about what's going on in Readceras, have you?" He shakes his head. "Accusations of heresy. Executions." He hesitates. "Not all of those are rumours. Readcerans are fleeing to Dyrwood, bringing news with them." He sighs. "I try not to lose hope... But it's difficult to misunderstand _that_." He looks at your face. "The rectrix didn't tell you that, did she?"

**Idalia** **:** "Um...no. I heard some of the rumors, but...I don't really leave the temple much."

"I'm not sure I should have told you that... But how can you prepare if you don't know what to expect?"

He puts his hand on your shoulder. “Just... be careful, child. There is so little light in this world... It should be protected.”

**Idalia** **:** She attempts a smile. "Lucky I carry a little with me, then."

He smiles back at you. "More than a little, I think."

"But I'd better let you get some rest now, right? See you tomorrow."

**Idalia** **:** "Sure. Bright and early! Good night, Invar."

You go and try to get as much rest as you can. It is not easy, considering how exciting this day was, but eventually you manage to fall asleep.

* * *

The next morning, as you get ready to leave, people gather at the center of the village, in front of the temple. Some villagers are praying inside. But none of those soldiers-to-be come to ask for a blessing. Not to the rectrix, nor to any of the priests who decided to remain.

Everyone is whispering, in small or larger groups. Some are crying, knowing this goodbye may be a farewell, that if things get serious, not everyone will come back home. Some are visibly hesitant, not sure whether their duty is to go or to stay. You see Woden and many other children you have taught about faith, saying goodbye to their families.

Invar is standing a little aside, neither with the priests nor the troops.

You stop just beyond the temple door to decide what to do next.

**Idalia** **:** Hm...she watches for a bit but keeps out of the way. I don't think there are many in Gilded Vale she'd have a strong attachment to, apart from Siofra, even if she recognizes some from services or the occasional errands in town, so eventually she just goes to join Invar.

Raedric watches the scene thoughtfully. Then, slowly, he approaches Invar and nods. The priest lifts his hands and lays them on Raedric’s head, whispering a blessing. Raedric steps back, nods at you, and joins his people.

Others follow. A few, at first. Then more and more. Not all, but many.

Some approach _you_ for a blessing. Some even mutter apologies.

**Idalia** **:** She will of course oblige, though they'll have to kneel. 

Woden is among the first who approach you. You remember him; you taught both him and his brother about Eothas when they were children.

He grins, with more confidence than he must be feeling. “Turns out I wasn’t a very good student, was I?” he tries to jest.

**Idalia** **:** She scoffs and pats his shoulder. "Only one of the best. I just wish there'd been more for me to teach about times like these. For both our sakes."

He winks. "Just remember what you taught me and you'll be fine." Then he kneels to get a blessing, completely serious now.

When the blessings are over, you set out and start walking across the village. You and Invar are at the rear, but you gather silence is better than unfriendly stares. In a few dozen steps that seem to stretch out into eternity, you leave Gilded Vale behind you for the first time in your life.

**Idalia** **:** Widest eyes ever, taking in everything even before they've left the parts of town she knows...

* * *

You all march for the better part of the day, and stop only as it starts getting dark. It would have been much worse if you had to walk the entire way, but Raedric was kind enough to lend you one of the supply horses; not small enough to let you feel comfortable, but not too big and calm enough to make the ride possible.

You are setting camp for the night when you hear the patter of horse hooves. The sentries reach for their weapons, but as soon as the rider emerges from the forest, Raedric tells them to back down.

In the gloom, from the distance, it looks as if the stranger’s head was on fire. But when he comes closer you realize he is a fire godlike, and the weird effect was created by his flaming hair and beard.

“Kenelm!” Raedric greets him as soon as the godlike dismounts. “What news from the borders?”

“Dire, my lord,” the stranger says. “You need to hurry.”

“Tell that to Aevar.”

“I’m going to..." They walk aside, lowering their voices, and keep talking over a map for the better part of the evening.

[is there anything you want to do?]

**Idalia** **:** Just...watch a lot and listen a lot, I suppose. And feed a treat to the horse that so kindly carried her.

**Idalia** **:** Oh and she might forage for useful plants or something, since she's got the herbalism skill.

_[any specific plants you're looking for?]_

**Idalia** **:** _[things with healing properties I suppose. And for flavoring camp rations?]_

[ _Idalia Herbalism: 16]_

After a while, you manage to find some mint, and a few Burned Ladies - the mushrooms will make a fine addition to your breakfast.

On your way back, you also find some pilgrim's crown.

Later, when you are getting ready to go to sleep, the godlike wanders to the outskirts of the camp, where you and Invar are sitting.

Invar smiles upon seeing him and they briefly clasp hands. “Kenelm! What are you doing in Dyrwood?” 

“What are _you_ doing in Dyrwood?”

Invar shakes his head. “It’s...” 

The godlike laughs. “A long story. I get it.” He looks over at you. “And who is this lovely lady?”

"Idalia, my fellow priestess."

**Idalia** **:** She waves, with a bit of fur-ruffling (orlan blush?) at being called lovely.

Kenelm smiles at you. "Nice to meet you, sunshine."

**Idalia** **:** Her eyes dart up as if to check whether she's forgotten to rein in the glow...

You are not glowing.

_You glow_ , you hear in your mind, _in here_.

Kenelm watches you, still smiling.

**Idalia** **:** "Oh!" She tweaks at an ear, not used to all of these soundless communications, and casts a suspicious glance between the two of them, then smooths her fur and smiles politely. "It's nice to meet you, too. Are you going to travel with Raedric?"

"No. Just came across you and decided to relay the news. I'm going to Defiance Bay."

Invar glances over at him thoughtfully. Then, he turns to you. “Would you mind if Kenelm escorted you there? I’m very sorry, I know I promised to travel with you... But I should stay with Raedric’s people.”

**Idalia** **:** Her ears droop a little as she eyes Kenelm. "Well...I suppose you did promise Raedric first, really."

“Thank you.” Invar smiles with relief. “And you,” he says to Kenelm, even though he has not asked and the godlike has not voiced his assent.

Kenelm is watching you closely. "Are you afraid of me? Because of my looks or my cipher skills?"

**Idalia** **:** Fur bristles a bit before she draws herself up, crossing her arms and watching him through eyes slightly narrowed. "You aren't going to go on talking in my head all the way to Defiance Bay, I hope?"

"No, I'm not, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Sometimes I just... pick things up, and act on it before I can think better, because it feels natural to me. Maybe because the Eastern Reach is a bit more tolerant about it than Aedyr was."

"I'm afraid I have to ask you a question in return." He smiles a little. “Can you ride a horse?”

**Idalia** : She winces. "Tolerably so? To be honest, today was the first time I've ridden one so far. Is it much further to Defiance Bay?"

"Just a few hours. And don't worry, tolerably is well enough."

"And now please excuse us, sunshine. We have a lot of catching up to do.” Kenelm smiles at you. "Sleep well." Then, he turns to Invar. “So, how are things back home?" he asks quietly. "How’s my brother? My niece?”

They sit near the fire and are still talking when you fall asleep.

* * *

In the morning, you and Kenelm say goodbye to Invar and Raedric, and you split from the group. A few hours later, you arrive at Defiance Bay without trouble and leave the horse at the gates.

Kenelm leads you across the city streets. Defiance Bay is much bigger than Gilded Vale, noisier and much more crowded, and overall more than a little overwhelming.

There are also more orlans here. While most are wearing very simple clothes, much like people in Gilded Vale, and some little more than rags, you spot one or two in finely tailored clothes, and an orlan woman about your age, with fur all over her face - she seems to be wearing a kind of uniform, adorned with a symbol of a hand holding something that looks like a dart.

You immediately notice when you get into another district, and not only because you pass through a gate. The houses here are bigger, more elegant, some with little gardens, and there are more trees and greenery in the streets, which are much cleaner, and there are sculptures and fountains here and there.

The house you are approaching is one of the smaller ones in the district. Not very impressive or as elegant as some other buildings here, overgrown with ivy – it seems dull, asleep. But still you find your stare gravitating towards it from time to time.

As you approach, the door opens, revealing a young hearth orlan in simple clothes and a leather vest. His hair is a strange brown-greyish colour, bordering on green on the part of his head that remains in the shadow. Upon seeing your companion, he smiles wearily. “Kenelm. Good to see you.” He opens the door and ushers you both in. “Come, come, Lady Webb is waiting for the reports.” He glances at you. “And for you, sunshine.”

**Idalia** **:** She resists the urge to check for glow this time, possibly from still being stunned to see so many people her size around. "Me?"

"We sent a letter to the temple of Eothas in Gilded Vale. And you're a priestess, aren't you?"

**Idalia** **:** She nods.

_[are you wearing a symbol of Eothas on your neck or robes?]_

**Idalia** **:** _[yeah let's go with a necklace]_

The orlan nods towards it. "It kind of gave you away, you know."

He grins at you. "I’m Kurren, by the way.”

**Idalia** **:** "Idalia. People mostly call me Dal. Or Lia. Or Ida. Or..." She chuckles and twitches an ear. "I think they always think it's too big a name for someone so small, but..."

"You should just glow at them if they do." He winks. "Pleasure meeting you, sunshine."

Kenelm sighs. “Don’t try to turn her head, we’re here on business,” he chides, but he seems amused rather than irritated.

They exchange a glance and you have an odd feeling they might be talking even when they are not opening their mouths.

**Idalia** **:** She directs a momentary glare at Kenelm for that before looking around inside.

"Business, right." Kurren straightens. "Follow me, please."

He leads you up the stairs, to what seems to be the main room on this level. The walls are lined with bookshelves, and two of three tables are littered with papers. At the third, there is a dark-haired meadow-folk man in his thirties, leaning over what seems to be a detailed - and probably very expensive - map of the Eastern Reach. When you enter, he looks up.

Kenelm bows his head slightly. “My lord.”

The man nods. “Kenelm. You’re late.”

“Not too late, I hope. I bring news.” Kenelm glances at you; his gaze is kind, but he is not smiling. “And a surprise.”

The man greets you with another nod. “Aevar, the duc of Dyrwood. I wish we could meet in better circumstances,” he says, but it seems his thoughts are focused elsewhere.

**Idalia** **:** She bows her head. "Honored, my lord. Though were circumstances better, I suppose I'd never have cause to venture so far from home."

"Home can be a very good place, lass," the duc replies. Then, he turns to Kurren. “Shouldn’t Eydis be here already?”

“She’s in a meeting right now,” the orlan explains. “But she will be here soon. As should the others.”

Aevar nods, and Kurren turns to you. “I’m sorry, you will have to wait for a bit.” He sweeps you a courtly bow. “And alas, I must leave; work is calling. But it was lovely meeting you, sunshine.”

**Idalia** **:** "Oh. Yes, um. You too," she says with ruffled fur.

"But I hope I can show you around next time you visit," he adds in a whisper, winking. "After this mess is over, maybe?"

He flashes you a smile and, not waiting for your reply, he leaves. By the time the door closes behind him, Kenelm is already leaning over the map alongside the duc, both of them talking in hushed voices. There is little you can do now but wait.

Do you want to do anything?

**Idalia** **:** Hm...she'll try to spot Gilded Vale on the map. 

You get up onto a chair and crane your head, trying to spot your home on the map without disturbing the duc; from the little snippets of their talk you hear, you gather Kenelm is a scout, and there are things they mention which you don't fully understand because of your somewhat sheltered upbringing.

_[Idalia Perception: 9]_

From your perspective, the map is upside down, and that makes it a little difficult to read, especially since you don't have much experience with maps, or knowledge of the geography of the region. You do manage to spot a big city that you guess is Defiance Bay, though.

Anything else you want to do?

**Idalia:** just wait and watch I guess!

After that, you just sit on the chair and wait. You have a feeling it might be the last moment of calm you are going to have in a while.


	3. The Oath Thou Doth Speak In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Woedican priestess is charged with a mission that pulls her further into the shadows and secrets of her organization.

You are walking along one of the corridors of the underground temple. By now, the way is familiar – it has been almost a year since you started reporting directly to the Grandmaster. But during the last few weeks, it has become obvious he must have been watching you long before that. Was that something the Acolyte reported to him? Was that his own insight? Maybe one day you will ask, if you find the courage.

The place has been eerily quiet lately, but today, the silence seems more profound. Usually, you would hear kith whispering, see an acolyte or two pass you by; maybe even hear a familiar voice calling ‘Jewel!’ and see Hafmacg grinning at you. But this evening, the old temple seems empty.

When at last you hear footsteps, it takes you a moment to register they are real. As you take a turn, you notice a woman – a wood elf, like you. In the dimly lit corridor, with her pale face and hair, she looks like a Cean Gŵla. She nods in greeting as she passes you by.

Her face seems vaguely familiar, but you do not know her name. It matters little, anyway. If she is here, then this must be her place on the wheel of the Leaden Key’s plans.

You take another turn and stop in front of the closed door to Thaos' chambers. You wait for a moment, but nothing happens, even though you know he is expecting you. Should you knock, or wait for the Grandmaster to call you?

**Nona** **:** I take a moment to prepare myself- push my hair back, refine my posture, and take a deep breath- before knocking confidently on the door.

“Come in,” Thaos calls, his voice muffled by the door.

**Nona** **:** I enter and bow my head slightly to Thaos as a sign of respect, and wait for him to address me.

The room is well-lit with many candles. There are flames crackling in the fireplace, and the air smells of adra incense. Thaos lifts his head and nods at you, gesturing towards an empty chair and wordlessly inviting you to sit down. He is at his desk, as usual, writing, strands of dark hair falling over his face like shadows. The desktop is cluttered with papers – notes, a scroll, a book, a pile of letters – it seems he is always working.

**Nona** **:** I take the seat, keeping my posture upright and attentive. "You have something important you wished to discuss, Grandmaster?" I ask, trying not to sound too eager. I have a great deal of respect for Thaos, and the fact that he trusts me in private meetings such as this is a source of pride.

"You could say that." He writes a few more letters and puts the quill away, then looks up at you. "Pride is very unbecoming, apprentice," he chides, but you can see he means it more as a jest. "Confidence, however, is a completely different matter. " He pushes the paper over to you. “I hope you found time for your studies,” he says, as if it was just a part of the Leaden Key curriculum. But you are the only one he has been teaching Engwithan while others were still learning how to write sermons and prayers. Nothing complicated; a few words, a few phrases. Just in case.

**Nona** **:** I nod in acknowledgement of his words, slightly embarrassed, and lean forward to study the paper.

There are just a few lines on the page. Most are single words, with two or three sentences at the end; Engwithan alphabet is so different from the letters you use every day it is difficult to tell. “Go on. Read,” Thaos says quietly.

_ [Nona Concentration: 21] _

You lean over the page and read. First, the Engwithan alphabet, letter by letter. Then, single words. “Seal. Lead. Key. Door. Oath. Guard. Breath. Life. Woedica. Eothas. Magran.”

You have been learning diligently, and praying to the Queen That Always Will Be to grant you insight. And now, as you watch the sentences on the paper, you find out you can understand them.

“State your name and purpose. My name belongs to the gods and my hand to their service.”

When you look up at Thaos, there is a gleam in his eyes. He is mildly surprised... and proud of you. “Excellent.” The corners of his lips lift in an approving smile. “Remember this,” he says.

**Nona** **:** "I shall, Grandmaster." Thaos's earlier words about pride are still in my head, but I can't help the confident grin on my lips.

He gets up, walks around the desk and takes the paper from your palm. He lifts it, drawing a sign in the air with his other hand. The paper bursts into flame.

Thaos holds it between his fingers, watching it burn; the fire licks his skin, but does him no harm. The paper blackens and turns into ash, and keeps burning until it turns into dust. Thaos brushes the dust off his hands and lets it fall to the floor.

**Nona** **:** I watch in silence, wondering if there is more to this meeting than a language lesson.

Thaos perches at the edge of the desk, close to you. He tilts his head a little, like a curious drake watching its prey. “Do you remember why you joined us?” The question is quiet, soft. A silk-inlaid trap for the unwary. But it is not the first time he has asked you this.

There is a strange feeling, like muffled tapping on a wooden door, and then you hear a whisper in your mind:  _ “Tell me.” _ It is difficult to say whether it was spoken in Thaos’ voice or your own, or both at once.

_ [Nona Will Save: 11] _

This is the step on which the too-confident slip and from which they fall. Thaos is reading your mind – or soul; with him, you can never be certain. Your words are one thing; words are easy to speak. What he is interested in are your thoughts and feelings.

**Nona** **:** I pause for a moment before answering- my past is not a subject I prefer to dwell upon. But knowing that Thaos is waiting, the hesitation only lasts a brief second. "In my life before this, I was a victim of corruption and injustice. I was cast out of the only home I knew. I prayed that Woedica grant me the justice I was denied, and she led me to the Leaden Key. Here, I can serve as she wills me." The memory of my old home is still a source of complicated emotions for me- anger, and bitterness, and a small amount of regret. But my dedication to Woedica and the Leaden Key is firm and provides me with a sense of purpose.

“You remember.” He nods. “Good. A tree cannot grow without roots.” His gaze softens for a moment. "But sometimes a tree needs to be replanted into more fertile soil if it is to grow and not wilt." The entire time, his gaze is focused on your face. “And why are you still here with us?”

**Nona** **:** "My name belongs to the gods, and my hand to their service," I quote with a small wry smile. "These are more than words. They are my vow. I believe in our mission and our purpose. I trust that the work I do here is the will of the gods."

“It is," Thaos confirms. "But few see it as clearly as you." He seems pleased with your answer. "That is why I chose you, Nona. Because you will recognize the importance of this mission. ” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Do not fail,” he adds quietly. “And always trust in the gods." He smiles briefly. "You might find friends in unlikely places.”

Nona :  "I will not let you down, Grandmaster," I promise. The mention of a mission has caught my attention. "What is it you wish me to do?"

“Yes, it’s high time I explained why I called you here tonight, and why I taught you Engwithan, isn't it?" Thaos withdraws his hand. "You must have heard the rumors about Waidwen.” He steps away and walks over to a small cabinet. “We must deal with this, and you can help me with that. But first, you will need something that will hide your true identity from others.” He opens a drawer and takes out a small box, then returns to you. Inside the box, there is a medallion. It is vaguely shaped like a broken blade of a sword or a dagger.

_ [Nona Theology: 15] _

You can sense the medallion's aura, like too-humid air, sticky and suffocating. This is an artifact of Skaen. But you do not know what powers it may have.

Thaos takes it out of the box, holding it by the leather strap it hangs from, as if he did not want to touch it. “You cannot go into Defiance Bay as a servant of our Queen, I’m afraid.” With that, he gives you the medallion, careful not to let it brush your skin. “Handle it with care.” He takes a scrap of fabric from the box and hands you that as well.

_ [Item Obtained- Blood Legacy: A medallion in the shape of a broken dagger. Hides the user’s true identity, masking them as a priest of Skaen. Activates  _ **_Blood Legacy_ ** _ upon touching bare skin: drains blood and uses its lifeforce to strengthen the nearest Skaenite blood pool (-25% health)] _

**Nona** **:** "And so I shall enter as a servant of Skaen?" I very carefully take the artifact from Thaos, observing it as best I can without touching it to my hands. "What is it we require in Defiance Bay?"

"Skaen seemed like... the safest choice." There is a wry look on Thaos' face; he must be fully aware of the absurdity of putting 'safe' and 'Skaen' in one sentence. "Other gods might forgive you for pretending to be their worshipper for this holy cause. Especially Magran; she took a particular liking to Dyrwood. But their clergy might not be so understanding,” he warns. “With Skaen... No one will contradict you when they see this.” He points at the medallion. “Besides, his servants only speak in whispers.” His lips curve into a brief, soft smile, but he is looking ahead, not at you. “And in Defiance Bay, the gods are not the only ones who listen to whispers.” He blinks once, then glances at you, his stare alert and sharp as ever.

"What we require is not in Defiance Bay exactly... But the door which leads to our goal is there. But we will come to this in a moment. First, I must caution you."

“No one should question your story. But if they do... It will be easy to believe Skaen would not want to kneel before Eothas, will it not? That the people of Dyrwood have enough injustice on their own, and don’t need a foreigner to add more. Especially not when he calls himself the Divine King.”

“If someone asks... lie to them, if you have to,” Thaos advises. “Tell them that Waidwen executed your family and you want revenge, or whatever else they might like to hear.” The stern line of his mouth softens a little. “I have faith in your abilities, Nona.”

**Nona** **:** I nod, my grip tightening on the wrapped medallion as determination sets in. "I will do whatever I must, Grandmaster."

"I know you will. That is why I chose you."

“Listen, Nona. If the road takes you too far...” His expression becomes grim. If he was anyone else, you might have mistaken it for worry. “If you face Waidwen...” Thaos breaks off. “If you face  _ Eothas _ ," he corrects, confirming the rumor , "he will know who you are. This artifact might deceive his servants, but not him.”

“Keep away from Waidwen," he warns quietly. "We do not need to learn whether he is really carrying a god within him. Your task is to stop him, regardless of who he is.”

**Nona** **:** The possibility that the rumors may be true sends a chill down my spine. A rebellious farmer making a false claim to divinity is one thing; a god turning against the rest of the pantheon is quite another. Either way, the true gravity of this mission has sunk in. I nod somberly. "I understand. He will be stopped."

Thaos briefly puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I would not have you do this alone. There will be others willing to stop him. The whole Dyrwood, probably. But your quest will be a bit smaller in scope than fighting wars."

He picks another piece of paper from the pile on his desk – a small map of Defiance Bay. “You will go to Brackenbury, to the Hadret House.” He taps a point on the map with his fingertip. “Though they will probably find you as soon as you reach the city.” Then he takes a sealed letter from the top of the pile and hands it to you. “Give this to Eydis Webb. Yes, she is not our ally, nor are her ciphers – but in this, she might be.” For a moment, he seems distant, thoughtful. “Sometimes we must make uneasy choices to reach our goals. She will understand that.”

“Tell her the truth. Lie to others, if you have to, but not to her; she would probably see through lies anyway. And there is too much at stake to risk.” He blinks, and focuses back on you, his gaze sharp and alert once more. “She will know who you are. Some of her ciphers might guess, too. But she will keep them silent. We have one cause, amusing as it is. She might even give your story more credibility, if you play your cards right.”

**Nona** **:** The order to cooperate with Lady Webb is a small surprise, but it would not be the first time the Leaden Key has made unlikely allies. "Understood. What do we know of the others I will be working with?"

"Not much. But... I know how Eydis thinks." He pauses. "The logical thing to do would be to send word to the temples, in hopes one of them might know the truth about Waidwen's divinity. She would have called for priests. Mystics, if they have any. Faithful to whom their gods might have spoken."

"Perhaps ciphers, too. But they are not trusted very much in Dyrwood, nor in Readceras. Priests are a safer choice. But you will probably have to wait until you get there to find that particular answer."

“They have probably been discussing military plans for days. But Eydis Webb has taught Aevar that sometimes a small group of shadows can be more effective... and she will not send them until she knows of Aevar's plans.” Thaos pauses. "They are organizing border patrols, Ashfall is busy forging new swords, but they do not have a plan yet. Perhaps they are waiting for you.” Thaos looks into your eyes. "When you join that small group," he says slowly, letting each word sink in, "help them find out what Eothas is planning. Help them stop him, when they find the way. But let them discover the truth about Waidwen themselves. They would never believe you, anyway, and sharing that knowledge might endanger the mission.”

**Nona** **:** "I will do as you say, Grandmaster. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Just remember one thing. It is their task to find the door. You...” There is a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You are the key that opens it.”

"But a key is not enough. To earn Magran’s favor, they have to pass her trials.”

“If they fail, pray to our Queen for help, and she will answer. Call," he adds quietly, "and I will answer, too. But until then, let them worry about the search. Your priority is to keep Dyrwood safe. Focus on that. And later...” Thaos breaks off. “Well, we will take care of whatever comes later when the current problem is solved.”

**Nona** **:** I smile, and rise from my seat, clutching the medallion close. I know this mission will be dangerous, his promise of support has left me reassured, and I am confident in my abilities. "Thank you, Grandmaster. I will prepare to leave immediately- it seems I have a long journey ahead."

Thaos smiles back. “Your dedication is commendable.” It seems there are sparks of amusement in his eyes. “But I would not have you go without a blessing.” He takes a step towards you, lifting his hands, and touches your face.

"Be careful, Nona."

**Nona** **:** "I will, Grandmaster. I promise."

“And how is your oath guarded?” In the candlelight, his eyes seem endless like adra, deep enough so you could read the future in them, if you knew how.

**Nona** **:** I repeat the familiar ending words to the oath. "It is sealed by the Leaden Key."

With two fingers, he draws the shape of Woedica’s crown upon your brow and murmurs a blessing. Then he leans in and his lips brush your forehead.

_ [Nona Will Save: 16] _

There is that weird, familiar feeling of another's mind softly touching yours. But Thaos is not trying to read your thoughts, not exactly; it seems more as if he wanted to gauge your feelings. He knows you respect him, maybe sometimes idolize him. He also knows you have been focused on nothing but your service to the gods ever since you joined the order. What do you feel, right this moment? What are you thinking of?

**Nona** **:** At this moment, my main thought is that I want to live up to the expectations he has placed on me. Since joining the Leaden Key, Thaos is one of the very few people I feel close to; his blessing makes me feel safe, I am proud knowing how much he trusts me, and I want to prove myself worthy of the attention he has given to me.

For an instant, you see yourself as a point of bright light in the darkness; this thought is not yours. "I am sorry." Thaos steps away, smiling at you gently. "You... remind me of someone I knew, long ago."

**Nona** **:** "I-" I want to ask him more, but he speaks so rarely about his own past. The thought makes me feel suddenly shy in his presence. Instead, I say, "There is no need to apologize. Thank you, for the blessing."

He watches you quietly for a moment. "Perhaps there will be time for questions and answers when you return," he suggests softly.

"I will pray for your safety," he adds. "But still, be careful."

"Go," he smiles. "Write the next few lines in the book of ages.” In a heartbeat, his face once again is the usual stern countenance of the Leaden Key Grandmaster. “And should you find a door you won’t be able to open, pray to our Queen. Many forget that to remember all, she must also see everything."

**Nona** **:** I straighten my posture once more. "I will remember, Grandmaster. And I will listen to the guidance of our Queen."

"Go with her blessing." Thaos nods at you; a sign that you should go. "And mine."

**Nona** **:** At his signal, I bow my head once more and leave the room to begin preparations for the mission.

* * *

You set off for Defiance Bay next morning. During the journey, there is plenty of time for you to think on what awaits you in the capital, and further. But also about the contents of the letter you are carrying. What could Thaos have written to the Leaden Key's arch-enemy? Do you open the letter?

**Nona** **:** I am certainly tempted; I would be curious about any letter sent to Lady Webb, and the fact that it was written by Thaos only strengthens that curiosity. But I know if I was meant to know what it says, Thaos would have told me, so I restrain myself and leave the letter unopened.

You arrive in Defiance Bay without trouble. But now, beyond the city gates, this is where problems might start. Defiance Bay has not changed much since your last visit here. The kith are busy, as usual... if a little bit more anxious. But what is war if there is profit to be made? You are walking along the merchant stalls in Copperlane, wondering how to reach Lady Webb without running into one of her ciphers, when you feel someone’s presence behind your back.

_ [Nona Awareness: 16] _

Someone is standing directly behind you.

"Down here," says an exasperated male voice somewhere at the level of your waist.

**Nona** **:** I turn quickly and look down, taking a couple steps away from the person.

You are facing a young, bearded orlan in simple but very finely tailored clothes. On his chest, there is a symbol of a clenched hand holding something. “Lady Webb was wondering if one of you would come,” he says, his keen eyes assessing you. After a moment, he extends his hand in a slightly mocking gesture of greeting. “Shall we?”

**Nona** :  I raise an eyebrow as I take him in. Normally Lady Webb's sigil would be a cause for a concern, and it feels strange to cooperate with a member of Hadret House. I take his hand courteously, but my voice is cold when I say, "Lead the way."

He looks at you thoughtfully, but then just shakes your hand and lets it go. "I hope you can walk on your own, so far from your master," he says with a smirk.

He turns away, then glances at you over his shoulder. "Come on, lady, we don't have the whole day."

**Nona** **:** I frown but follow him through the streets without comment.

With your guide, you get to Brackenbury much faster. Not because you really need directions when you have a map, but because you can walk the streets openly, not worrying about being caught by other Dunryd Row ciphers. In no time, you arrive at your destination.

You have seen the Hadret House when you were working under the Acolyte’s orders in the city, but you have never been inside. Until now. There is no sentry at the door, but still your orlan guide waits for a moment before he opens it. Traps and guards on the other side? Well, you are going to find out soon. The orlan stops at the threshold and glances at you again. "Still following?" he asks, flashing you a grin. His sharp, pointy teeth do not make it a very friendly expression.

**Nona** **:** "Obviously," I say, slightly irked by his mocking attitude. " Shall we enter, or are we to conduct our business out in the street?"

"You have business with Lady Webb, not me. Be glad that she has more common sense than most. That's why you're still breathing." His eyebrows arch. "What, your master forgot to mention that?"

**Nona** **:** "If I am going to see Lady Webb, then please kindly take me to Lady Webb," I respond, nodding pointedly at the door.

He blinks, his eyes suddenly focusing on something distant. Or someone. Very briefly. Then, he shakes his head and looks at you again. "Yes, we shouldn't delay. But I'm not going to apologize." He opens the door and steps inside, allowing you to enter. "Come on."

**Nona** **:** Once we are inside, I try to observe as much as I can while still following the orlan.

You enter a spacious hall, with a few doors and a stairway leading upstairs. The room is littered with papers, and full of kith going in and out. Like bees in a hive.

_ [Nona Awareness: 14] _

Dunryd Row ciphers are smart and cautious enough not to leave any important things or leads where visitors can see them. There are some maps pinned to the walls over other maps - Dyrwoodan borders with Readceras. On the table, there are a few theological books you recognize - most of them on Eothas. Weirdly, there is also a small book of Eothasian stories for children. Beside it, there is a pile of books on Magran, and a few scrolls. You recognize the letters on one of them - it is written in Glanfathan. Alas, you cannot read it.

_ [Nona Insight: 17] _

In a way, this place reminds you of your order’s quarters. Kith moving around, busy but mostly quiet. Books and maps and scrolls. The subtle but persistent feeling of being... not watched, not exactly. Like spotting someone in the corner of your eye, only to see empty air when you turn. Lady Webb is looking after her flock just as Thaos is looking after his.

"Come on, holy girl," the orlan urges. "Lady Webb is waiting." He leads you up the stairs, through two rooms similar to the one downstairs, to a wide door guarded by two sentinels. He waits for a moment, then opens without knocking. “Go,” he says, then ushers you inside before you can answer.

**Nona** **:** I enter cautiously, still trying to take in whatever I can, although now my attention is mostly on meeting the infamous Lady Webb.

You enter a spacious room; strangely, it seems weirdly empty. There is a bed in the corner, a few bookshelves, some maps and papers on the wall, and a big desk in the centre, littered with more papers. It is very different from Thaos’ chamber, but still it reminds you of it for some reason. At the desk, looking straight at you, stands a frail, old woman in a dark robe, contrasting sharply with her pale wrinkled face and white hair. She does not seem impressive, not at all. But when you meet her eyes, her stare cuts like Durgan steel.

_ [Nona Awareness: 18] _

Her eyes are the only part of her that is still young. They are green, adra-like. A bit similar to yours.

_ [Nona Will Save: 14] _

Her thoughts touch your mind. It is subtle, but very different from what you are used to with Thaos. She reads your mind casually, as one reads a book, just sifting through the pages. "Questions, answers." She smiles, but without malice. "Tricky things, aren't they?"

How do you react? What can she read in your mind?  _ [you can lie or conceal things but she will know anyway] _

**Nona** **:** "Lady Webb, I presume?" I ask. I'm wary about being here and also very curious about her work and her relationship with Thaos. I don't want to antagonize her and I don't trust her, so I stay on the subject of the mission and give her a brief explanation as to why I am here. I withdraw the letter and hold it out to her. "The Grandmaster sent this for you."

"Yes, he would, wouldn't he?" she asks, taking the letter.

"Things must be grave indeed if he turns to  _ me _ for help," she adds, opening the message. "Ah, sorry." Again, that strange smile. "Suggests we work together."

Carefully, she unfolds the letter and gently runs her fingers over the crease in the paper, straightening it. Her eyes move under half-closed eyelids as she reads. “But not every door is a way out,” she mutters under her breath, her face thoughtful.

She glances up at you and hands you the message. "Here, read, if you wish. You must have been dying of curiosity on the way."

**Nona** **:** I’m surprised by the offer but take the letter. I’m too curious now to even think about refusing, although I feel self conscious as I quickly read it in front of her.

The letter is very short. Only one sentence. It is not even signed. >> _ There is a way out of every room, and there is a key to every door. _ <<

Lady Webb watches as you read. "Not what you expected?" she inquires kindly.

**Nona** **:** “I didn’t know what to expect. But still... no, it’s not.” I admit. The letter leaves me with more questions than answers, and leaves me wondering just how Thaos and Lady Webb know each other. “You seem to know what it means, however.”

"I knew what it meant long before it arrived," she answers cryptically. "Even before it was written."

**Nona** **:** I let out a soft laugh. “Do you always speak in such riddles?”

Her thin eyebrows arch. "I have better. But they would require Thaos to solve them."

When you do not answer, she smiles. "Do not take offence, child. This was just an attempt at jesting. You must forgive an old lady if she has forgotten how to do that."

**Nona** **:** “No offense taken. I’m just surprised, I suppose.” I say cautiously. “You’re not much like what I had imagined you to be.”

"I will take it as a compliment." She laughs. "Though I suppose it depends on what you imagined."

**Nona** **:** “Somebody much more... confrontational,” I answer, thinking of the orlan who led me here.

"Ah, there is more than one way to be confrontational. But I guess that is something that comes with age."

"Well, but you are not here to talk about me or my riddles, are you? And I wouldn't dare to stand between you and your holy quest." She is clearly mocking you, but there is some understanding or perhaps sympathy in her eyes.

**Nona** **:** I bristle a bit at the mocking tone, standing up straighter. “This holy quest is of great importance to both our organizations,” I say as diplomatically as I can. “Does this mean we can count on your cooperation?”

"Oh, grow a backbone, child, and stop being so cautiously diplomatic. It can help you out there. Not here, with me. And neither with Thaos."

**Nona** **:** I’m taken off guard by her response for a moment, but try not to show it. “Are you helping us or not?” I ask again, letting a harder edge creep into my voice.

She shakes her head, then smiles. "Change of tune, finally." She looks into your eyes with a weird mix of amusement and sympathy. "It's evident why he chose you for this quest. It will surely be interesting to witness when you understand that, too. If you ever do."

Suddenly her gaze shifts from you to the closed door to her chamber. It opens, revealing the same orlan who brought you to this house. “Islwyn, are they all here?” Lady Webb asks curtly. 

The orlan nods. “Yes; the temples answered our summons. And there’s...” he breaks off. “Yes,” he repeats.

“Very well.” Lady Webb turns back to you. “Come, child. Let your presence at this meeting be my answer.”


	4. The Joy Of Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Waelite priestess has a peculiar dream, meets a mysterious stranger, and sets off on an adventure full of questions.

You open your eyes... and see nothing. Darkness, an endless ocean, and you are floating in it.

Then, faint lights, closer and closer. Stars, orbiting around you. You? No, something else. Something close.

**Ona** **:** I try to turn my head and see.

You see darkness. Stars, a whirlwind. And in the middle of it - void.

Some scholars say this is what the matter of the universe looks like. Infinite. Countless ways. No directions. Only questions and riddles.

**Ona** **:** I try and reach out to the void, to see if I can touch it.

You reach out, and your hand touches nothing. But the void ripples like the surface of a lake. It opens, revealing an image.

There are a few figures standing between ghostly outlines of book-filled shelves in the archives. They have no faces, but you recognize them: Grimda, the Records Keeper from the Ducal palace, and yourself.

And an empty place beside you, like a shadow. It has no eyes, but you feel it is watching you.

**Ona** **:** Does it feel friendly or threatening?

A shadow can be both, and neither. Chances. Possibilities. You don't know until it reveals itself.

The stars are whirling around you and around the vision. They suggest and show direction, but they do not point towards it. The void does.

**Ona** **:** I take a look around the archive in the vision, trying to remember it.

There is nothing special about this scene save for its weirdness. But the archives look just as usual. Is this someone's memory, or a vision of the future?

**Ona** **:** Can I follow where the stars lead?

The stars are around you, at a small distance. But if they are pointing at anything, it is either you or something at your feet.

**Ona** **:** I pat myself down, and look down at the floor to see if I can spot anything.

First thing you see is that there is no floor.

But at your feet, in what looks to be ground made of space, you see a door. Rather narrow. Perhaps big enough for you to go through. Or perhaps not.

_ [Ona Theology: 24] _

The door seems familiar. Can it be... Is it Wael’s Cupboard?

You have heard tales of it, of course; what scrivener has not? But you have not seen it. Perhaps others have not seen it outside of dreams either?

**Ona** **:** I try to go through the door.

It's locked.

**Ona** **:** I bend down and press my hand against it - can I touch it?

You press your hand against it and feel wood. It is just like any other door, at least in texture.

**Ona** :  I pause for a moment, considering, and then I knock politely on the door. "Is anyone here?"

The stars around you blink in a rhythm similar to laughter.

A stain of ink shows up on the door and grows into a letter. Then, into a sentence: "No, but your creativity is appreciated."

**Ona** **:** "Well, you can't show me a mystery dream door and expect me not to be curious."

The letters shuffle and change, and another message forms: "How about more curious?"

_ [Ona Theology 22] _

You are in Wael's realm. Things here often work differently than in reality. Or sometimes, in reverse.

**Ona** **:** Can I get round the door from the other side? Push up rather than pull open?

There is no other side. The door is in the ground. And even if technically there is no floor, you cannot get under it.

Another message appears on the door: "Close. But not quite. But close."

**Ona** **:** I try to close/lock the door instead of opening it.

With a creak, the door opens.

Inside, it is a cupboard, but without shelves, drawers... or back. Or bottom. Just a door, a way. To where? Behind it, you see nothing. Darkness, and endless ocean.

**Ona** **:** "Well, I didn't get this far not to go in."

 **Ona** **:** And I go in, or try to.

As you step through the door, the shadows whirl around and then dissipate. You are floating in a vortex of stars that fills up the entire sky.

One star blinks. Then another. And another.

They are eyes. Wael’s eyes. You are in the presence of your god.

**Ona** **:** I look round at all the eyes, impressed and awed but trying to hide it. "Hello, boss."

The stars shimmer; a wave rippling across space. “Hey, pal. Long time no see.” The stars blink, in a familiar rhythm. Almost like a chuckle. “What would you say about a journey?”

**Ona** **:** "I'd say: when do I start?"

This time, you can almost hear the laughter. "Soon. Very soon."

“There are so many interesting places in the world, aren’t there? Unfortunately, you will need to start with something more mundane. But interesting enough, don’t you worry. We wouldn’t be speaking otherwise.”

**Ona** **:** "Sounds good to me - what do you need me to do!"

The stars blink again. "Oh come on, you don't expect a straightforward answer from a god of secrets, do you?"

**Ona** **:** I laugh. "Not even a tiny clue?"

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Half of the eyes wink at you. “The current situation in your lands suggests it’s going to be about historical records. But we have a... request.” The eyes blink in a rhythm and you can almost hear laughter. “Make your chronicles more interesting, would you?”

**Ona** **:** "I've been in one place too long, for sure. Records, huh?"

 **Ona** **:** I try to think of any new records that I have recently come across.

The newest records you have come across would have been reports on Waidwen.

"Those records we meant are not yet written. But kith are usually so uncreative when writing their history... We should do something about it, shouldn't we?"

**Ona** **:** I grin at as many eyes as I can. "We really should."

The eyes wink at you again. “Now shoo, go to sleep. See, the mind is... like a garden. You need to water the earth if you want to grow new flowers.”

**Ona** **:** I try to hold all of this in my mind while I can. "See you, boss."

"We'll meet again, pal. Meanwhile, see to those chronicles. You've always been creative, even back then, haven't you? Hiding in the shadows. Surprising people. You could say the work of a chronicler is similar.” This time, only one eye winks. “The sentences are just like kith. Don’t let them expect you. Who knows what words they might be hiding?”

“Now go, go, away with you. Get some sleep while you can.”

With that, one eye on the same level as yours closes. Then another, a bit further. Then another. One by one, they blink out of existence, until you are left floating in the dark.

And then there is nothing but the darkness under your eyelids. You blink, waking. Everyone else is sleeping. The dormitory is still mostly dark, but moonlight washes over your fellow scriveners and their beds like sea waves, their breaths almost like the hum of the waves.

In a moment, it lulls you back to sleep. You dream of the sea and salty breeze and exotic flowers. Some, when you are not looking closely, seem to have eyes in the middle.

* * *

The next day starts ordinarily enough, but soon it starts feeling as if you kept dreaming. When you enter the room Grimda always uses for meetings, there are two figures standing beside the round table. The High Archivist herself, along with a greying man in simple but fancy clothes – the Records Keeper from the Ducal Palace.

It is no secret that the scriveners of Wael always know where to find the most detailed accounts of historical events, and that is why the Keeper often visits Revealed Mysteries – to ask for information. Which, of course, Grimda agrees to procure... for a fee. The temple is usually paid in unrestricted access to the city archives. Officially, not all sections are available to them, but followers of the god of hiding and revealing secrets have their ways. And if some details vary from reality a little – well, it is not your fault that sometimes life is too boring.

“Ah, Ona.” Grimda nods at you. “At last. We’ve been waiting for you, child.”

**Ona** **:** "Sorry to keep you waiting."

 **Ona** **:** I look at them, trying to gauge the mood of the room.

_ [One Perception: 29] _

Grimda is calm. The Records Keeper seems both excited and worried.

He greets you with a bow of his head. “Miss Ona, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

**Ona** **:** "And you as well."

 **Ona** **:** I look to Grimda, waiting for her to speak.

"The Records Keeper has a request," Grimda explains.

The man seems a bit flustered. “I am looking for a scribe, for a somewhat... peculiar work. High Archivist Grimda recommended you.”

**Ona** **:** "Peculiar work is my speciality."

“You have heard about Waidwen, haven't you, child? The self-proclaimed king of Readceras?” Grimda asks.

**Ona** **:** "Of course," I assure them. "Hard not to, these days."

“Waidwen. Yes, indeed.” The Keeper coughs. “That is a very... delicate matter.” He smiles at you politely. “That is why we need a very talented scribe.” He absent-mindedly rubs at a stain of ink on his hand. “It is very possible that Dyrwood is at the verge of conflict. But even if that was not the case...” A spark gleams in his eyes. “We are witnesses of a momentous historical event. Unprecedented. We – the Duc, I mean – would like someone to keep track of them.”

“A chronicle, if you would. Were it possible to determine whether Waidwen’s nature is divine or mortal, it would certainly be an important step in magic studies and theological debates. But it is equally important to simply record what is happening.”

**Ona:** "A Chronicle? You want me to make this record?" I ask, trying to hide my sudden excitement.

 **Ona:** Inwardly I think, "You work fast, boss."

For a moment, you think you've just heard a chuckle.

“A chronicle, yes. And the High Archivist said you would be best suited for that particular task." The Keeper's brow furrows. "You see, too often, details get lost in time. But I know you Waelites have ways of saving them.”

“Or finding them, perhaps,” Grimda corrects. “We can do this, Keeper. We would have sent someone to observe anyway.”

The man smiles politely. “As always.”

Grimda nods. “Such are the ways of Wael.”

“I trust your choice, High Archivist.” The Keeper bows his head to Grimda, then to you. “And your talents, young lady."

**Ona** **:** "I'll do all that I can," I assure him.

“Thank you. Since the request comes from the Duc himself, I will inform the treasury that you shall be rewarded well when it is done. Thank you again, and may your god bless you.” He smiles. “I believe I will find my way out,” he adds, looking at Grimda.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she replies with a mysterious smile. It is but a joke, and you all know it. The priests of Wael have their tricks, but they also have worldly dealings to tend to, and making people disappear without a trace would not help with that.

**Ona** **:** I hide a laugh at her words.

The Keeper bows his head to you both and leaves.

As soon the door closes behind him, a shadow beside one of the bookshelves moves and steps forward.

It is a male coastal aumaua, tall and bulky, his blue face framed by a dark pointy beard and a few dreadlocks slipping out from under his hood. His robes are dark as well, and very simple; no ornaments, nothing at all except for an amulet on his neck. You recognize the familiar shape of the eye of Wael. His own eyes are yellow, and the markings on his face are the same colour.

It is difficult to believe he could have hidden in plain sight. But a moment ago, you could have sworn he was not there.

**Ona** **:** I nod at him, trying not to show that I am surprised. "Hello there."

He smiles widely, two rows of sharp teeth gleaming. “Welcome, friend,” he says in a slightly accented voice.

“This is Kauri, from the Deadfire Archipelago,” Grimda introduces the stranger, unfazed by his sudden appearance. “He has a mission for you as well.”

**Ona** **:** "More peculiar work?" I ask, directing the question at them both.

"Just a... task," the aumaua replies. He turns to Grimda. “High Archivist, if you would...?” Grimda glances at you. Then she nods at the guest and walks out of the room, closing the door behind her.

**Ona** **:** Again, I try to hide my surprise.

 **Ona** **:** I lean back against the wall and watch him closely .

“You are a... very promising scribe,” Kauri says, a corner of his lips curling upwards. “But do you know what is the most important part of a chronicler’s job?”

**Ona** **:** "Getting the spelling right?"

"That too. But perhaps try thinking less... literally?"

**Ona** **:** "Making an... appropriate record of events?" I suggest, my mind turning over everything that happened last night and today.

"Indeed." He smiles. “A chronicler’s most important task is to determine what should be written,” he explains, and for a moment, his expression becomes completely serious. “And how. What should be etched into books, and what into memory alone. And what should be forgotten altogether. And when it might be necessary to remember something that never was.”

“That is your task. Write a chronicle, as you were asked to. But be mindful what and how you write.”

**Ona** **:** I nod slowly. "I understand."

 **Ona** **:** "Who has assigned me this task?" I ask him curiously.

He looks at you and smiles slowly. "Don't you know?"

“You can call it a... test, if you want.”

**Ona** **:** I grin back at him. "A test, huh?"

"All that should be uncovered will be revealed in due time. Perhaps sooner, if you have Wael’s favour. Never, if you don’t. Or was it the other way round?” He laughs.

**Ona** **:** I laugh too. "I guess I'll find out."

“I have something that might help you on your journey.” His robes have no pockets, but he reaches into one now, and pulls out an amulet. “Treat it with care. And give it to Grimda when you get back.” He flashes you another smile. “If you do.”

_ [Item Obtained- Wael’s Drawer: An amulet that allows the user to hide small things, temporarily transporting them to Wael’s domain. Can be used once a day.  _ **_Wael’s Fickle Will:_ ** _ 25% chance you won’t be able to retrieve the hidden item, a chance the item you retrieve will have different properties] _

**Ona** **:** I take the amulet and study it for a moment, before placing it around my neck and hiding it under my robes.

[I love it!]

“It was a pleasure meeting you in person,” Kauri says with a nod. “I will be awaiting the news of your return most impatiently.”

**Ona** **:** "In person?" I ask, thinking back to my dream.

"I am not Wael, if that's what you think," he replies, amused. "I simply see very far."

**Ona** **:** I nod slowly. "Must be useful - will you see when I get back, or -"

"Or when you go forward, perhaps?" He winks at you. "Either way, enjoy your journey."

**Ona** **:** I wink back. "I always do!"

"Careful with the winks," he warns. "I might think you're flirting."

**Ona** **:** I wink again. "Might you?"

"Only one way to find out." He winks again, too.

"Good luck, lass. It really was a pleasure." With that, he turns away and starts walking towards the door.

**Ona** **:** I watch him go, then pat the amulet under my clothes and follow him out.

Just as he opens the door and steps forward, you blink. When you open your eyes, he is not there, as if he has just vanished.

But Grimda is there, leaning against a wall and waiting for you.

Her gaze is instantly drawn to your new amulet. “Ah. Haven’t seen that one in a while. You must have been blessed, indeed.”

**Ona** **:** "You've seen it before?" I ask her.

Grimda shrugs. "I've worn it."

**Ona** **:** "Kauri said to return it to you when this is over," I tell her.

"We'll see what Wael says to that when you return. Or whether our guest won't come back for it himself."

“I don't know what he told you, but my advice: do what he said. But do it the way that seems right to you. There are good and bad choices and answers to this riddle, of course. But unlike with other gods, in Wael’s service, you can’t learn them. You simply have to know.”

**Ona** **:** I'd like to see Kauri again, but I don't say that aloud.

 **Ona** **:** Instead I say, "At least it'll be interesting."

“Isn't it always?" Grimda smiles. "Just remember. There are no commandments, only questions. Premonitions, dreams. Intuition. Many ways. You either know what to ask and where to seek or not. No one can learn that; not to the extent Wael demands.”

“Good luck, child. Make us proud.” She reaches out and draws the shape of Wael's eye on your forehead.

**Ona** **:** I close my eyes as she draws the symbol and then I smile at her. "I will. If there's anything I'm good at, it's asking questions."

"Just remember not everyone sees it that way, and that sometimes, it might be better not to ask."

“Go to the Hadret House, child. They will be waiting for you. There is no time to lose... But sometimes losing is the only way to gain something, isn’t it?” She smiles again. “Go. May Wael conceal your steps from your foes and reveal your allies.”

**Ona** **:** "Thank you," I say to her. It's hard to hide how excited I am for the journey.

 **Ona** **:** I get restless, staying in one place.

"I will pray for you." Grimda's expression becomes serious. "Now go. If we keep Lady Webb waiting for too long, she will start asking questions. And we wouldn't like that."

**Ona** **:** "Very true!" I make sure the amulet is secure, then I turn to leave.

* * *

You find your way to the Hadret House without trouble. The Brackenbury district is familiar; you have often visited it before you became a priest. You know the building very well, too, but only from the outside, as a part of the cityscape. Only a fool would steal from a cipher, after all. And this a house full of ciphers.

You approach the door, but before you can knock, it opens, revealing a young, bearded hearth orlan in simple but very finely tailored clothes. His keen eyes seem to be assessing you. His eyebrows arch and a corner of his lips twitches, and you can almost hear  _ “Well, that’s interesting” _ even though his mouth does not open.

After a moment, he smiles politely. “Welcome,” he says, then steps aside, making an inviting gesture with his hand. “Lady Webb has been expecting you.”

**Ona** **:** I look at him curiously as I step past him. "Thank you," I say, waiting for him to lead the way.

“Follow me,” he says as you enter, and leads you up the stairs. “Hurry up, please, if you would. Everyone else is already here.”


	5. What Scraps Of Evidence Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having finally gathered together, the four priestesses meet their new allies and make plans for their quest.

Ona, when you reach the top of the stairs, the orlan stops. “Wait here for a moment,” he says, then turns to an open door on the right.

**Ona** :  I wait, watching where he goes.

Yarrow, you are sitting in the room, waiting, when a familiar orlan peeks inside. “Follow me, please.”

**Yarrow** :  I follow him.

You follow him out of the room, and immediately notice a dwarven woman standing in the hall.

**Yarrow** :  I nod to her.

“The introductions will be dealt with soon, I believe,” the orlan says. “Please, follow me.”

**Ona** :  I smile at the newcomer and follow.

He leads you both through another door. The room is big: three tables, a few bookstands, some chairs, and another door, closed.

On the middle table, there is a map of the Eastern Reach. Two men are leaning over it, talking in hushed voices: a dark-haired meadow folk in his thirties, dressed in a fine but very simple robe, and a fire godlike with flaming hair and a beard, his breastplate gleaming in the lamplight.

In the corner, you notice a small figure that could be mistaken for a child. But it is an orlan woman. 

Idalia, you see a different orlan than the one you've met before, leading a folk and a dwarven woman into the room.

The orlan crosses the room, stops in front of the closed door for a moment and then opens it without knocking.

“Islwyn, are they all here?” comes the voice of an elderly woman.

The orlan nods. “Yes; the temples answered our summons. And there’s...” he breaks off. “Yes,” he repeats.

“Very well.” She says something more, but too quietly for you to make sense of it. But you hear it, Nona, because she is talking to you.  _ [the last thing she said when you met] _

The orlan steps aside. The two other men stop talking.

An old lady in simple dark robes walks into the room. Her hair is white and thin like a spider's web, and her face is like crumpled parchment, but her shoulders are straight and she holds her head up high, and her steps, while slow, are sure. Behind her, there is another woman, a wood elf. Nona, you follow Lady Webb out of her chamber into a room full of strangers.

“Eydis.” The dark-haired man nods to the old woman.

She smiles briefly. Then she looks over you all. “It’s time for introductions, I believe.” She motions towards the man. “This is Duc..."

“Aevar Wolfgrin,” the man smiles sharply. “The humble leader of this country.” His gaze moves from one of you to another. It lingers for a moment on you, Yarrow, and then the duc gives you a small, respectful nod when he recognizes you as one of Magran’s clergy.

**Yarrow** :  I nod back.

Then, Lady Webb points at the fire godlike. “Kenelm, our invaluable scout, who’s just returned from Readceras.”

Kenelm only bows his head briefly in greeting. His eyebrows lift a little when he glances at you, Nona, but he says nothing.

**Nona** :  I nod silently in greeting.

Next, Lady Webb motions towards the orlan, apparently one of her ciphers. “Islwyn, my apprentice and right hand.”

Islwyn nods and smiles at you all politely.

“And I am Eydis Webb, the lady of this house.” She nods at all of you as well. “Please, don’t believe every rumour you’ve heard of me.” She smiles. “I assure you, some don’t do me justice.”

**Ona** :  I laugh at that.

Duc Aevar laughs too, but he quickly becomes serious once more. “Wasn’t Sceyda supposed to be here as well?”

“She will be here soon,” Lady Webb assures. “As will our friend from Mercy Vale.”

The fire godlike’s eyebrows lift. “Uhtric? I met him on the way. He should be in the city already.”

Lady Webb nods. “He is.” Then, she turns to you. “Meanwhile, perhaps we should continue the introductions?” She glances at you, Yarrow. “Would you go first, dear? As a courtesy to Dyrwood’s patron, shall we say.”

Before you can start, you hear loud, measured footsteps. The door opens, revealing an elderly woman in red robes and a leather armour engraved with a symbol of Magran. Yarrow, you recognize Sceyda.

**Yarrow** :  I wait to see what Sceyda does.

She glances at you briefly, then walks over to Aevar. As you know, she is not a person to waste time on greetings when you have seen each other today already.

Behind her walks – very quietly – a meadow folk man; he does not seem old, but his weathered face makes it difficult to tell his age. His hair is slightly matted and tied in multiple braids, its colour something between a lion’s and a fox’s fur. When he comes closer, you all notice a simple copper earring with a small adra stone in his right ear.

“Sceyda, the high priestess of Magran, from Ashfall,” Lady Webb introduces. “And Uhtric Rulth, one of the commanders who guard our borders.”

Uhtric seems tired, but he smiles - honestly, not just politely. “Ladies,” he says, bowing slightly.

**Ona** :  "Hello there," I reply.

**Yarrow** :  I nod.

**Idalia** :  I give a little bow in return.

**Nona** :  I nod.

Sceyda says nothing and just nods. Her sharp gaze moves over Ona and Idalia. She is scanning your faces, as if trying to determine your worth.

Then she glances at Nona and freezes. For a moment, she looks as if she was about to spit on the floor. “Skaenite filth,” she mutters in disgust.

**Nona** :  I raise an eyebrow and say in an amused tone "A pleasure to meet you as well."

Lady Webb lifts her hands in a calming gesture. “Each of us has a place on this board.” She motions towards the map of Dyrwood and the rest of Eastern Reach, lying on the table. “Even she.”

“Now that we’re all here, perhaps we will let these young ladies introduce themselves?”

_ [please give us short descriptions of your characters' looks and introduce them] _

**Yarrow** :  "Yarrow Cwicfyr, priestess of Magran," a stocky meadow folk woman with a blonde braid wrapped around her head says gruffly.

**Ona** :  "I'm Ona, Scrivener of Wael," I say with a cheerful little wave. I am a solidly built mountain dwarf with short brown hair and brown eyes.

**Nona** :  Nona is a slight elf woman with a freckled face and reddish-brown hair that falls just below her chin. Her expression doesn't betray much emotion, but her green eyes study the room intently. "My name is Nona, and I am here on behalf of Skaen."

**Idalia** :  Idalia is a hearth orlan, strawberry blonde hair done up in a plain bun, blue eyes, ears flicking up and down slightly as she looks from one person to the next. She wears the sun-and-stars symbol of Eothas as a pendant and waves with a shy smile and wide eyes when it comes to her turn. "Idalia, from Eothas' temple in Gilded Vale, but most call me Dal."

**Nona** :  I glance at Ona with a small smile. "Hopefully the others won't get the two of us confused."

**Ona** :  I laugh. "At least they'll be kept on their toes!"

**Yarrow** :  "So," I turn to Lady Webb, "What do you need with a bunch of priests?"

"Something a bunch of priests should be uniquely skilled to do," Lady Webb replies. "Investigate a supposed... divine intervention." She looks over you all. "I imagine your superiors gave you all a similar task."

**Idalia** :  I nod slowly.

**Ona** :  "Similar," I agree.

"But before we move on to the details of your delicate mission, we need to paint the background, so to speak." Lady Webb points at the table. "Gentlemen, if you would...?"

Kenelm and Uhtric move the table to the center of the room., and you all gather around it, looking down at the map.

Duc Aevar nods at Kenelm. “Give us the short version.”

“Waidwen is gathering an army.” The fire godlike leans over the map. “I’ve seen small groups at the north shores of the Lake of Pales. And there might have been a scout or two in the mountains, but my contact in Cold Morn wasn’t sure what she sensed.”

“It’s worse than that.” Uhtric frowns. “The Glanfathans have spotted scouts almost as far as Mercy Vale.”

Sceyda shrugs. “Glanfathans would gladly tell you that just to get rid of a trespasser.”

“Now, Sceyda.” Aevar smiles briefly. “You know very well no Glanfathan would let any outsiders deal with trespassers.”

“They prefer to do it themselves, true.” Uhtric is serious. “But it’s more than that.” He pauses. “Glanfathans have appointed a Galven.”

**Nona** :  "What is a Galven?"

“It means ‘war chief’,” Uhtric explains. "A leader Glanfathans choose to unite the tribes in times of strife."

“That’s even worse than we expected.” The duc rubs at his forehead. “I hope Raedric and other lords will answer Bademar’s call and aid Cyneric at Halgot Citadel. Then at least the main gate to Dyrwood should be safe enough.”

Sceyda moves her finger over the mountain range, from New Yarma up to Stalwart. “What worries me are all the windows.”

“My brother will take care of that,” Uhtric reassures. “And the Glanfathans.”

Sceyda frowns. “You trust them?”

“If there’s one thing the tribes of Eir Glanfath hate more than an old enemy,” Lady Webb replies calmly, “it’s a new one."

Uhtric nods. “And a mortal claiming to be the incarnation of a god is blasphemy in their eyes.”

“If he is a mortal,” Sceyda says.

“Whoever he is, he will come for Dyrwood,” Kenelm says quietly.

Aevar nods grimly. "And we must stop him."

“We will. If he is  _ Waidwen _ ,” Lady Webb reminds. “We can deal with a mortal aided by clever tricks and magic. But if he really is Eothas...” She sighs.

Aevar turns to Lady Webb. “What if he  _ is _ a god, Eydis?” For the first time, you recognize a note of fear in his voice.

Lady Webb folds her hands together. “We will try to prepare for that, too,” she replies calmly.

“There are many ways of fighting.” Sceyda nods at you, Yarrow. “And we have a lead.”

**Yarrow** :  "We've been having dreams. From Magran."

**Ona** :  "Oooh, do tell," I say, and pull out my notebook.

**Yarrow** :  "Lots of world burning stuff. Boom."

Aevar chuckles. "A good sign, I suppose?" He pauses. Frowns. "Or a very bad one."

**Nona** :  "'Boom' sounds pretty bad to me.”

**Yarrow** :  I shrug. "Could be Waidwen going boom."

"That would be a good solution to the problem, indeed." Aevar smiles at Yarrow briefly. "If it's possible."

**Yarrow** :  "There are... rumors of an artifact of Magran in Eir Glanfath."

The duc huffs. “Folk tales...”

**Yarrow** :  "You got anything better?"

Aevar looks at all of you in turn. "How about you?"

**Nona** :  "I've heard tales of this man who calls himself a divine king." Nona shrugs. "Us Skaenites don't particularly care for kings, especially not divine ones. Whether he's mortal or not, we don't plan to live under his rule."

"Neither do we," Aevar assures. "We'll fight. Meanwhile, you'll find out whether Waidwen really is as divine as he claims. Granted, it's not going to be easy... But it still might be easier than looking for a legendary artifact in Eir Glanfath territory."

Sceyda huffs. "It's not a proper trial if it's  _ easy _ ."

Uhtric ponders something for a moment. "As ridiculous as it sounds... Going into Readceras and talking to Waidwen might be easier. And it's not finding the artifact that would be difficult. It's taking it back here. Or leaving Eir Glanfath alive at all."

**Yarrow** :  "Because strolling into Readceras to have a chat with a madman seems like the thing to do to prolong lifespan."

Lady Webb looks at Idalia. "Who knows, you might even get invited to Raedceras, if you try."

**Idalia** :  Dal's fur bristles, but she nods. "He might listen to me. Well, Eothas might. If Waidwen is...not  _ him _ , I don't know. But Eothas might."

Sceyda's eyebrows rise. "Are you suggesting your brother in faith would not listen to you?"

Kenelm frowns. "With the accusations of heresy multiplying in Readceras by day, that's not so obvious."

**Idalia** :  "I mean, if he's just pretending or he's really just mad, I don't know what he'll do." She frowns. "But...if the Readcerans believe he's Eothas, at least, they will take note of me. I carry his light." And a glow begins at her ear-tips, spreading down.

**Yarrow** :  I have no idea how to respond to that.

"It won't be safe," Uhtric says. "But it still might be safer than Eir Glanfath."

**Nona** :  "Why is this artifact so important? Just what does it do, exactly?"

**Yarrow** :  "Boom."

**Idalia** :  Dal winces. "I'd really rather we talk to him before any 'boom'. It seems the sort of thing you only get one chance at."

"Some say the artifact turns the user into an avatar of Magran. Some say it lets you commune with her.” Sceyda shrugs. "Either way, a handy thing to have."

Aevar looks at Idalia and frowns. "Child, there won't be any talking. If you want to talk, you send messengers, not an army."

**Ona** :  "We can't start with an answer - we need to ask the questions first."

"Your question: is Waidwen a mortal, or a god?" Lady Webb replies with a smile.

**Ona** :  "One of many, yes."

"More questions, if you wish, dear: where is this artifact? What does it do exactly? Can it help us? Do we have enough time to search for it?"

Aevar nods. "Eydis is right. By the time you find that thing - if it exists - Waidwen might be at our borders. And we won't be ready because we won't know what to prepare for."

“It would be best if you attempted to accomplish both tasks,” Lady Webb says thoughtfully. "And I believe the artifact does exist."

"And if you manage to find it, that will surely get Magran's attention," Sceyda adds. "And  _ that _ is more important than trinkets. Even holy ones."

Lady Webb looks at Uhtric, then at Islwyn, who has been standing quietly beside her for the entire time.

“To find the artifact, you'd have to search not only on Glanfathan territory, but in Engwithan ruins,” she explains, somewhat reluctantly . “That’s where the most powerful ancient artifacts come from. Which ruins, I do not know.” She sighs. “But I do know you won’t be welcome there.”

Islwyn nods. “Not even if the ruins seem too desolate for the Tribes to pay attention to. And even if you won’t be stopped by guardians, there are traps.”

**Ona** :  "Sounds exciting!"

"You will never find it in time if you don't know where to start." Islwyn frowns. "If you think there are many ruins around here, just wait until you see Eir Glanfath."

Uhtric frowns. “Unless...” He breaks off, his face thoughtful. “The Galven might know more. Or his sister.”

"They will eventually find you anyway, if you go too deeply into the Glanfathan territory." He leans over the map, tapping at the symbol of Eir Glanfath. "You might try around here."

“If his sister finds you, just think of this meeting and you should be safe enough," Uhtric advises. "If you observe their customs and don’t do anything foolish.”

“If the Galven finds you...” A corner of his lips goes up. “You can try praying. It might work.” He glances at Nona. “Or not. They’re not too fond of Skaen.”

Lady Webb smiles. “I’m sure they will understand that sometimes we must make unlikely alliances.”

**Nona** :  "Especially if they are as concerned about Waidwen as we are."

"Oh, they are," Uhtric replies. "Some of them still remember the War of Black Trees. They're not looking forward to repeating that."

While he speaks, Islwyn hurriedly walks over to one of the bookstands, takes out a leather tube and brings it to the table.

“I thought you might need a map.” Lady Webb takes it and reaches out towards the four of you. “Here.”

**Nona** :  I take it and spread it out.

The map is very similar to the one on the table, just smaller and not as detailed.

**Ona** :  I lean over to look at it.

**Idalia** :  Dal peeks at it from Nona's side, trying again to spot Gilded Vale... 

**Nona** :  I look at the others. "If this artifact is as useful as you claim, it may be worth the time to search for it. Do you agree?"

**Idalia** :  Still trying to get her bearings, "Is it...on the way?"

Aevar shrugs. "It's your lives at stake. So it's your call."

**Yarrow** :  "Anything can be 'on the way' if you try hard enough."

"Depends which way you go," Kenelm says. "If you intend to go to Readceras after all... If you go through Cold Morn, you would probably travel along the borders of Eir Glanfath at least. So it could be on the way."

"Unless you go through New Yarma, then no."

"You will need to go back that way," Aevar says. "We'll be waiting for the answers at Halgot Citadel."

**Ona** :  "Sounds like fun to me!"

**Yarrow** :  "In my opinion, we should pick one and stick to it. Trying to half-ass both things will just end like shit."

"It might be one thing," Lady Webb says. "Just in two different places."

"If you need time to plan and discuss things, there's another room here that you could use, and we'll be here if you wanted to ask something more," she suggests. "But now, we must move on to other problems."

Aevar gives a tired smile. "It's called strategy and tactics, Eydis."

Lady Webb ignores his comment and looks at the four of you. "So?"

**Yarrow** :  _ [Looking at the map] _

**Nona** :  "My vote is to find this artifact. If you're correct, we may need it to stop Waidwen. We can make our next decision based on what we learn from it."

**Ona** :  "The journey is more important than the destination- we'll find where we are meant to be."

**Yarrow** :  "I like doing more than talking. If anyone's going to talk Waidwen down it ain't me."

**Nona** :  I look at Idalia. "So that's two in favor of the artifact and one who seems indifferent. Thoughts?"

**Idalia** :  "Well..." Her ears flick back. "We don't actually know if the artifact'll be of help till we know if he's really Eothas, I suppose? But if it's on the way, could be worth getting it first."

**Nona** :  "I think 'boom' will be just as helpful in dealing with a mortal. Looks like we're going artifact-hunting."

Lady Webb nods. "I'm glad that's settled. You will be given the necessary funds and provisions, of course." _[let's just assume you get enough money and everything to last you through the game, just to have less mechanics to deal with]_

“Go to Halgot Citadel when you have the answers,” the duc reminds you.

Sceyda looks at you all. “Face your trials bravely or you will fail.”

“Goodbye for now.” Uhtric smiles. “But who knows, we might meet again on the road.”

“It’s likely we might meet, too.” Kenelm nods at you. “Stay safe.”

“I’d wish you safe travels as well, but soon no travels are going to be safe,” Lady Webb cautions. “So instead: be careful.”

"Please, follow me," Islwyn says as he opens the door.

You follow Islwyn downstairs. In a few minutes, you are ready for your journey. With Islwyn's wishes of good luck, you leave Hadret House and step out into the street. From now on, you are on your own, with only your skills and faith to help you.


End file.
